Leagues Away
by SmileyButterflyy
Summary: A prince deserves a princess, someone of equal rank. At least, that is what Hermione, the newly appointed royal tutor, must tell herself to keep Prince Draco off her mind. Besides, she's a mermaid with no place on land and a mission to stop the siren's plot and the ring master behind it all. AU -Hermione x Draco
1. Chapter 1

This is in an AU, and I do not own any of these characters, but I hope you enjoy my take on them.

Disclaimer: Draco appears in chapter 4.

* * *

Never had Hermione seen someone so lost in their own home. Crown Prince of Durmstrang, Viktor Krum, stood at an open window overlooking the ocean. He'd been like that for the past quarter of an hour and hadn't seemed to have noticed that Hermione had entered the room. Hermione knew he'd been under a lot of stress lately, but as much as she desired to, she could not broach the subject with the crown prince as to what was worrying him, it was not the place of a tutor to do so.

Hermione clasped her hands in front of her and slowly approached him. She stood beside his elbow and curtsied low. "Your Highness, I am sorry to intrude on your thoughts but we must begin you history lesson."

"Hermione, you know I do not like my friends showing me this level of pleasantries. No one is around, so please, rise."

Hermione lifted herself from her curtsy. "As your tutor I cannot treat you with any other level of courtesy than that of a Crown Prince, and as such, I must insist that you call me Lady Granger."

"There is no one around Her-Lady Granger." Viktor had changed his words after seeing the look of warning on Hermione's face.

Hermione internally sighed with relief, at his correction. If Viktor began to call her by name she was sure that her thinking would go awry and leave her floundering like a fish out of water.

"As your friend, I do understand that it is unnerving to be treated kindly when you've been born into your situation. But you have earned my respect Your Highness, because of your words and actions. However, if we do not start your lesson soon, then I'm not sure that I will be able to convince the Queen that I'm making any impact on you with my teachings."

Hermione was born in middle class, her father holding a minor position in the Durmstrang government. Although her father was a diligent, hard working gentleman, it was her mother who had taken it upon herself to be of service to the kingdom by becoming the royal tutor. Hermione had disliked the royal family for most of her childhood for taking monopoly of her mother and father. Hermione was left to read books and entertain herself most days, wondering how people could demand respect when they were only born into a position.

When she was age seven, her mother had taken her to the Durmstrang Castle where she met Prince Viktor for the first time. She thought him a pretentious prick of a prince who didn't deserve her smile and courtesy. It was over several visits and Viktor's gallantry and curiosity about Hermione's coldness that coerced Hermione into revealing her dislike of him. To her surprise, Viktor hadn't raised his voice or sent her away, he readily agreed with her that a leader should deserve respect, not command it. He pledged that day to be a ruler that could recognize his own faults and have the integrity to do the right thing. It was because of that time that Hermione reassessed her notion of him.

Viktor's figure dropped slightly. "My mother is one of the most wonderful women I have the happiness to know, apart from you, of course Lady Granger."

A slight blush flooded Hermione's cheeks, the flattering compliments came more and more frequently from Viktor. She had been Viktor's official tutor for a half year, and with each lesson she could feel a slight change within herself. "Thank you kindly Your Highness, you are too kind." Hermione said with a curtsy.

Viktor's lips twitched into a grin and Hermione's thoughts scattered. It seemed to be occurring more frequently to her.

"We had talked about the Great Compromise between your kingdom and that of the Weasleys, today I wanted to ask if you had a basic understanding of that time or if you'd wish to review any points with me. A paper of reflection and what you believe you might have done differently will be required by next week. If you've yet to write it, I did bring spare parchment, quill and ink along with me." Hermione nodded in the direction of her satchel, which also housed a two history texts as well as a text on theories of Spell Casters, and their abilities.

A small crease appeared between Viktor's brows. "I believe my knowledge of the Great Compromise has improved immensely since you have come to help me, Lady Granger. I have yet to begin that paper; however, I am a bit troubled on another matter I was hoping you could assist me with."

"I would be glad to help, Your Highness."

"As you know, I will be having my debut ball soon, and my dance instructor has been away sick. I've learned a little of waltz, but I'm afraid it's more or less left me. If you wouldn't mind, I would like to spend the rest of my time covering that." He stood from the table in one fluid movement and gave Hermione a bow, offering his hand to her. "May I have this dance Lady Granger?"

Hermione placed her hand in Viktor's. "I would love to; however, I must warn you I have not instructed anyone on the proper way to dance. I might not be qualified."

"I don't mind in the slightest; I do need to practice, and you would not want me to step on a lady's toes."

"Of course not."

"Then, let us waltz." Viktor rose and led Hermione onto the open space of the floor. The room was often used as their meeting place. Hermione appreciated it's many windows as well as the open floor and tall ceilings. The only artwork in the room was a grand piano and a large painting of the royal family.

Viktor spun Hermione in front of him and held her right hand in his left. "Please, teach me as if I knew nothing of the waltz."

"Yes. Well, a man would offer a hand, then take the woman up into his arms-"

Viktor stepped in front of Hermione and placed his free right hand on her back. Hermione naturally put her left hand atop his biceps, they contracted under her fingertips.

"What comes next, Lady Granger?"

Hermione brushed her dry lips with her tongue. "Well there is no music to wait for so we can go over the steps."

"Is this the right hold? At past parties I remember the couples being closer than we are now."

It was true, the space between Hermione and Viktor could fit another individual. Couples in the royal court would dance chest to chest as they whirled across the dance floor in a flurry of twirls and the fluttering of caps and dresses. A closer hold gave stability, but also a… much closer connection between the partners.

"Yes… those of the royal court will dance closed hold. Perhaps when you are comfortable with closed hold we can move on." Hermione stepped away from Viktor in order to stand beside him. "The basic steps are a box when you do not move, but using your frame you can move your partner in the direction you choose. The basic step for the male starts forward with your left foot."

Hermione went on to explain the basic steps to Viktor, how to hold himself as the lead, simple but elegant moves, and how to maneuver the dance floor.

"So if you find yourself with another couple behind you-"

"Lady Granger, would it not be more ideal to dance with you and practice in that respect? I've yet to dance and practice your teachings." Viktor held out his left hand to Hermione, and by the basic courtesy in her she had to accept.

Viktor stepped in, bringing his right hand onto her back and pulling her into his side so that her rib cage was pressed firmly onto his own. The breath went out of Hermione, but she didn't protest as it was the right hold and she wasn't sure if she'd want to protest regardless. Being so close to him and feeling his warmth made her knees tingle. Hermione leaned her head back and relaxed her shoulders into the proper follow frame. Her mind was so preoccupied that Viktor's beginning count was almost lost on her.

Viktor took off with graceful steps and a strong guiding frame so that she knew where they were to be going. He spun her, dipped her, and held her close so that Hermione had no other room in her mind besides Viktor's body pressed against hers. When Viktor turned Hermione out, she wished she could dance longer.

"How was that, Lady Granger?"

"O-Oh, yes. That was lovely Your Highness. You do learn quickly; I'm sure you'll have no trouble for your debut ball." A debut ball for any crown prince was to declare he was to begin his search for his bride, and Viktor's was to take place in two months time.

It was as if Viktor had not heard her. "May I please call you Lady Hermione as the very least?"

Hermione's heart twisted viciously. "I-, yes, yes you may."

"Thank you, it had been so hard trying to keep myself in check on that matter… May I ask one more question?"

"You are the crown prince, Your Highness, you may ask me any question."

A small smile twitched across Viktor's face. "What are your plans for the future? Are you thinking of staying at the castle and replacing your mother in due course? Perhaps travel, I know many women who have taken to traveling a small portion before settling down." Viktor's voice trailed off towards the end.

"I-I have had no thoughts of the future to speak the truth. I suppose staying the course of my mother is what I am currently on. I had not thought on… the other matters." Hermione's voice trailed off. Of course she had thought, she'd contemplated every man she'd met, but none of the men near her status were whom she wanted.

Hermione looked into Viktor's face. If she could, she'd choose him, but there would never be a future with them. She'd received enough looks from the queen to know it.

"I see… then I suppose, so I will rely on your guidance from now on, as the tentative future royal tutor." Viktor gave a mock bow, to which Hermione curtsied to.

Hermione suppressed her reaction, wishing she could laugh or brush a hand onto his shoulder.. "Yes, I suppose so. However, I believe the coming preparations will be cut out time short; your father will no doubt take over your teaching once you've come up to speed on current happenings of the kingdom. I will no longer be needed to instruct you on your History or Math."

Viktor's eyebrows puckered together for a moment as his words formed. "No, I believe that I will be in need of instruction of dance from you Lady Granger. I enjoyed your instruction, and seeing as the dance instructor has been gone this past week, I could use the extra instruction." Viktor glanced down at Hermione and quickly away.

No amount of reading about romance or the science of pheromones could prepare her for Viktor.

To her immense relief, there came a knock at the door.

Viktor stepped away from Hermione and composed himself. "Enter." he commanded in a smokey, appealing tone that sent a shiver down Hermione's spine.

The King's messenger entered the room, bowing to Viktor. "Your Highness, the King wishes to see you in the conference room."

"What is the matter on?"

The messenger glanced at Hermione, one she'd seen on many a staff and royal. The two of them had been close for years.

"She is trustworthy with any information you divulge." Viktor commented, obviously misreading the situation. "What is the matter on that my father requests my presence?"

The messenger flushed slightly. "Yes, the matter concerns the ships at sea. Men disappear and some are found to be shipwrecked. We've received word of a third on within the past five months. Your father, Spell Caster Igor and other members of the King's council are in attendance."

Hermione noticed the way Viktor perked up at the news, being at such a prominent table was an honor. He had not been to a meeting of such magnitude before.

"I will be along shortly to the conference room. Please notify my father."

With another bow, the messenger disappeared behind the doors.

Viktor turned back to Hermione, a blazing look in his eyes. "Thank you for coming; I will notify the Queen and make the arrangements for our continued sessions. I'm to see you soon then."

"Of course. It would be my pleasure to serve the crown prince in any way I am able."

"Wonderful, until next time we meet, Hermione." With another bow, to which Hermione curtsied low to, he swept off and left the room.

As the door clicked shut Hermione's knees gave way like a newborn calf and she was on the ground. She covered her face in her hands; how she felt now could not be described as anything she'd ever read before. All she knew was she wanted Viktor to sweep back into the room and continue their waltz as if he'd never let go of her hand and would never let her go again, yet it never could be. Viktor did not seem like the man who would deny his family the benefactory of marrying and making their kingdom stronger. Hermione pinched her cheeks and shook her head- it was not right to think these thoughts about the crown prince.

Hermione rose and went to the window the crown prince had been staring out of not to long ago. It was a crystal clear view of the ocean, but if she were to look down she could see the patch of courtyard that her mother sat in right now, reading to the youngest two children of the royal family. What had he been thinking? Staring off into the ocean with such a deep, provoking gaze?

Thoughts of her future consumed her. Would she stay on as the royal tutor after her mother retires? Would she marry? She could not see him being intimate with another woman who could not see the deep concentration he held when it came to politics or philosophy; or when he smiled with immense delight when he played with his younger siblings; or when he was silent but found ways through his actions to show how he felt on a subject. Thinking of Viktor with any other woman tore at Hermione's heart. How could she have let herself unravel at the mere thought of his name? Hermione shivered; she had to leave the premises least the thoughts and memories of Viktor in the castle consumed her thoughts.

She looked down and found that her mother and the children were no longer in the courtyard. It would delay their journey immensely if she were to be late for departure. Hermione turned away from the view of the ocean and her thoughts of Viktor- she needed to think on the matter and come to some sort of conclusion before she was to see him next.

* * *

"You've been awfully quiet Hermione." Hermione's mother commented. After their normal greeting, Hermione had made no move to encourage conversation, as she had been so tactful at every other week. "Did something happen in your lesson with the crown prince? He's become much better with his pronunciation since you've become his tutor; he has not regressed has he dear?"

Hermione turned to face her mother, the carriage jolting them one way then another as they turned off the main road and onto their cobblestone roadway. "His Highness, Prince Viktor, has improved immensely, and his pronunciation is immaculate; it is like he's never had an issue."

"Well that is good that it's improved; it would have been concerning had he not cleaned it up by his debut ball. I've found that a good manner of speech and quick feet do make a lady swoon." Lady Granger Senior placed her hand over her heart and blushed slightly. "Your father was quite the dancer and talker himself- it was how he won my heart when we first met."

Hermione played with a curl by her face, desperately hoping her mother did not notice the flush dancing across her cheeks at the mention of swooning at a man's words and dancing.

"But do not worry about marrying my dear, we will soon hold a small gathering for you as well to see if any eligible man catches your eye. I'm sure we could get a majority of the young men, perhaps even all of them from the surrounding towns. I'm sure we could even hold it in four months time. I will talk to your father about the matter and we can get it settled" Lady Granger Senior patted Hermione's hand affectionately, in every way having good intentions for her daughter's future. "We can even purchase you a new dress to be made. I know how you've been wanting a to make a new one, but for such a special occasion we can hire a tailor. You'll love it I'm sure."

However, for Hermione, it was as if she was thrown into the deep, icy ocean depths. Of course, she would have to marry, she was of age, and there was no reason for her to not marry. But to think that it would be so soon.

The carriage came to a halt in front of their home, it was a modest establishment crafted by a warm, brown stone with carefully tended rose bushes in the front of the home as well as english vines.

"I think a walk would do me some good before supper." Hermione spoke in a tight voice. "I'm afraid I've been cooped up for to long; my legs could go for some mild exercise."

Lady Granger Senior puckered her lips and looked at her daughter. "Now darling, if i've made you upset in any way. I apologise. However, I want you to know that I want you to be happy and healthy above all else. Do you understand?"

Hermione gave a stiff nod.

"Alright then. Go and have your walk, just be careful of the ocean. I do not want you stepping so close to it least the Sirens call to you."

Hermione relaxed at her mother's worrying tone. "Mother, there is no such thing as sirens, or mermaids. I hardly believe the unsupported evidence of Spell Casters. Master Igor hardly does anything in my opinion."

Lady Granger Senior gave her a look she hadn't given her daughter in many years. The world had mysteries that no one person could solve or understand even if they dedicated their entire life. "Very well. Go, enjoy your walk, but stay away from the coast dear. For safety."

"For safety, I will." Hermione leaned in, giving her mother a kiss on the cheek. "I'll see you for supper." With a final pat on her hand from her mother, Hermione exited the carriage, with her satchel in hand, and set off for her favorite ocean viewing spot.

* * *

It took her no time to make her way to the oceanside, her feet took her on the familiar pathway. The night sky had darkened, but it was not time for the stars to shine just yet. A slight wind had picked up and Hermione regretted not thinking to take a shawl with her on her walk.

"I haven't been thinking with my head at all lately." Hermione sighed to herself as she made her way to the sandy beach. It was a modest stretch of sand with large hills on either side; when she was younger, she'd often spend her days playing in the ocean and finding seashells. It'd been her favorite past time other than reading.

She had some serious thinking to do, Hermione sat on a patch of grass, taking off her shoes so as to dig her toes into the sand. Viktor was a dream, besides being a crown prince, he was a gentleman, and a thinker, when he spoke people listened because of the provoking thoughts he shared. There were times Hermione could not tell of his meaning or intentions, but she knew enough that he was sincere today and it seemed as if the thought of his debut ball bothered him as much as hers did. If he were, by some miracle, to choose her, then what would become of the dynamics of his family. She could not think of a man in history that married so low beneath him; she couldn't imagine Viktor's family being all too keen on the idea.

Hermione sighed and dug her toes further into the sand, scratching a shell with her toe as she went. What was she to do now that she's recognised her feelings? The constrictions brought on by birthright were too insignificant to deny two people of one another. Never being able to see him again seemed a worser fate to inflict upon herself. There must, somehow, be a way that she could continue being alongside Viktor at the very least.

A letter.

She could write him a letter.

A new feeling of power swept over her, she could write him as a friend at the very least. Who knew what the future held, and if she were to give up on the mere inkling of hope she held she'd forever consider herself a fool. Opening her satchel, she retrieved a piece of paper, quill and ink. She contemplated how to begin, agonizing over the first line before deciding.

 _Dear Viktor,_

 _I've no idea of your true intentions as we are always so careful as to not let them show. If I am wrong in my assumptions, please, burn this letter and pretend that I had never tried to cross the line between prince and lady, tutor and pupil, or friend and friend. The future is uncertain and it is something often feared, but I cannot see a future in which I do not have at least some connection with you._

 _I care for you, and wish you the best in any endeavor you undertake, but I must ask what your intentions are with myself, a girl who can offer no monetary or political gain. I only have my wits and intelligence to offer in rivalry to the qualities I lack._

 _I wish you good health and a happy future._

 _Yours truly,_

 _Hermione Granger_

Hermione pursued the letter and near tore it to bits. How could she put such words into writing? If she had been wrong of her reading of Viktor earlier, she could very well be severing the ties between their families. She closed the letter and sealed it with his name so as to not misplace it within her satchel, but before she had a moment to close her satchel, a soft voice came to her ears.

It was a sweet sound, but heartbroken, like it had lost their love to war gone by. It rose and fell with the tides, filling Hermione with a deep sadness. Was she right in her decision to write the letter? It was a lost love from the start.

Words came through now, soft, delicate words as if whispering to the stars above about longing and desire. Words that spoke to Hermione's soul and made tears drip down her cheeks. She stood, hearing the song clearer now.

It was coming from the ocean.

Longing swept over her- she wanted to be closer to the music. It was something meant for her ears only; her feet grazed over the sand on as they made their way to the cold waters.

 _Sweet love I held_

 _So close so dear_

 _Whom held my heart_

 _When far or near_

 _A man whose heart_

 _Is not mine to hold_

 _As I have but brains_

 _But not a lick of gold_

The icy waters were at Hermione's waist were unnaturally still, moving only when she stepped forward. The tears that had sprung from her eyes moments before would not stop pouring down. She only wanted to be happy with Viktor.

The voice came to a hum, and cold, clammy hands wrapped like vices around Hermione's ankles. Hermione took one last step and was dragged down into the ocean. Only when she disappeared beneath the surface did the tides resume their natural state.

Underneath the ocean, Hermione sank deeper and deeper into its depths. Her sight was all but gone; her breath was knocked out of her lungs as water filled it. Her body fought to wrench it out, to swim to the surface, but her mind rejected the notions.

The hands that had held fast around her ankles moved up her legs, tearing her clothes away from her body as she went. Pieces of her blue dress floated in front of her unresponsive eyes. The hands tore at her dress, her undergarments, her bodice, leaving her body bare before the creature before her.

The face that appeared before her was one she'd heard stories about, one that she had feared when she was young enough to believe. She believed now: Its skin was decayed and hung from its bones like an afterthought. Its coarse, tangled black hair billowed in the ocean around it as its cracked lips moved, humming the melody that had entranced Hermione- it was a revolting sight, one that any man or woman would scream and avert its eyes. The worst sight were its eyes, pure black iriss that wanted to devour its victims whole.

It smiled wide, revealing rows of jagged, glinting teeth.

She was going to die.

A Siren was going to tear her throat out after entrancing her and defiling her after ripping her clothes from her body. There would be nothing left of her for her family to bury. She'd never go to a ball. She'd never marry. She'd never have children. She'd never live until old age. She'd never know what Viktor would do had she not gone down to the ocean. She'd never know anything.

Hermione closed her eyes, not wanting her last image to be of the horrible sight in front of her. She fought to bring her parents and Viktor to the forefront of her mind. She thought of their kindness and love and held onto those memories as the hands clasped around her limp neck and what felt like the last bubble of air escape her lips.

Suddenly, the hands slackened and fell away.

Her mind blacked into nothing.

Then, a pair of supple lips pressed into hers.

A heart beat.

A tingle in her fingertips.

Finally, then she breathed in.

* * *

Ending Author's note: Leave your thoughts on the chapter or favorite/follow/comment.

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	2. Chapter 2

Beginning Author's Note: This is an AU. Please follow and review if you'd like to see more ;)

* * *

Leagues Away- Chapter 2

It was dark. Not pitch black, but she was in some greenish darkness that barely allowed shapes to form. All Hermione could smell was the tang of seaweed; all she heard was the movement of water around her. Although her senses were barely registering her surroundings, Hermione knew one thing- she was not alone.

She tried moving, but her bottom half was bound, as were her hands and upper body. Her blood ran cold- had the Siren tied her up for later? Hermione tried to move her arms, her legs, her fingertip, anything to break the binds that held her.

"Please don't move." A soft male voice uttered from somewhere in the greenish gloom. "The seaweed will only cut deeper. I can take it off now, if you hold still."

"Don't come near me." Hermione voice quivered as she spoke. She tried yanking her arms away from one another, feeling what she knew and felt to be seaweed, slice into her. It was as someone had cut into her skin with a thousand needles and poured lemon juice in the wounds.

"I know you're scared but the Siren is miles away now. It can't touch you anymore."

Hermione stopped moving and started thinking. She couldn't move, couldn't see, and she couldn't remember anything that happened when she blacked out. If anything she'd have to try to stay level headed, who knew what the man, would do to her.

"What happened when I blacked out? Please?" The memory of the Siren's hands wrapped around Hermione's throat was still evident when she spoke. It was as if the Siren still had a hold of her.

"The Siren had you in its clutches… I'm not sure if it was going to kill you or change you, but you wouldn't have like either outcome I'm sure."

"C-change me?"

"Into a Siren, yes."

"And you saved me?"

The voice didn't reply at first, almost like he was gauging how she'd respond. "Yes, I saved you from the Siren."

Hermione's body twitched at the words and she it felt for the first time, something around her feet, except she didn't feel like she had feet at all. She felt water move over her lower half and around her 'feet' as if she had fins.

"What did you _do_ to me." She screeched, all thoughts of remaining calm left her mind in an instant. This man, no monster, had changed her into that awful creature from before. Panic tore through her body like wildfire as her body convulsed against the seaweed binding, bucking and contracting is any way that she could conserve escape. Her movements became pre erratic as the pain of the seaweed binding grew tighter around her; then, all she saw was a vibrant, sky blue that engulfed her.

The male's scream was added unto hers.

"What is going on!" She yelled. "Stop it! Stop you are doing at once." The light died down. Hermione saw the retreating figure with arms up, covering his face so that all she could see was a flash of his green tail. The seaweed that had been tightly wrapped around her was now dark specks floating in the water. "What was that."

"That was blue fire, it burned away the seaweed binding you. You-"

"Why was I bound? Was I bound so you could kill me later for some late night snack?"

"Kill you? Eat you? Never! I saved you from that Siren!"

"Saved me? You didn't save me from anything you monster; You bloody made me like that Siren! I have a damn tail!"

"I am no monster and you are no Siren. You are what I am, a Mer-person, a guardian of the ocean and protectors of the humans from the likes of Sirens."

"A mermaid?" Hermione's body stilled and relaxed.

Hermione could see a little better now as well. She could sense the different colors of darkness and picked up on the hints of light. She was a cave, more like a little nook in the wall judging by its depths. Outside, she could see a pair of eyes gleaming back at her, hidden behind seaweed, like the owner was terrified of invoking her wrath.

The eyes bobbed up and down in a nod before speaking. "Yes, a mermaid, or merman in my case. Mermaid always has been more popular amongst humans." There was a slight pause, as if the speaker realized he'd drifted off topic, and that he must speak as much as he could to Hermione in the moment she had retrieved her composure. "You're a mermaid, Hermione."

"I'm a- wait, how do you know my name?"

"Well… I was once human too. I'm not sure if you'll remember me though as it has been several years. May I come closer? At least close enough for you to see my face."

The small nod at gallantry, and the curiosity at what he said to be true intrigued Hermione and brought back her sensible, curious nature.

"How do I know if you're trying to trick me or not? That you're not some Siren is disguise; I haven't the faintest idea as to what you can or cannot do as a mermaid or Siren or whatever you describe yourself as to me." How could she possibly have the acquaintance of a merman? She'd been to the ocean often, but the only things she'd talk to were the seashell- could a merman listen through the seashells?

"You like facts and certainties, I remember this much about your analytical nature. Although I wish I could convince you with a single bit of evidence, though sadly, I cannot. Ocean dwellers attempt to stay away from human interactions. It keeps us safe, and it gives us the ability to perform our duties as guardians. The only assurance I can give you is my assurance, my word, and my knowledge of merfolk as I have come to learn over the years."

She wanted answers, and the list only grew in length as the voice spoke. There did seem to be a familiar ring to his voice. At the very least, one answer she could have for certain at this very moment. "If you wouldn't mind, please, come closer so I might see your features but no further.

The figure of the merman came closer with a glint of green and Hermione gasped. The likeness was uncanny, he was older now but it was him. The merman was Harry Potter.

"H-Harry?" Hermione breathed. "Harry Potter? The Harry Potter who went missing seven years ago along with King James and Queen Lilly? Is it true that it's you?" Disbelief was uncanny in Hermione's tone.

Harry hung his head down, hiding his mother's bright green eyes behind his black hair that floated in the ocean currents. "It's me, Hermione, really. It's good to see you, but I only wish it had been under different circumstances. If I had only been faster, gotten the news sooner- There is no excuse for me to offer you Hermione. I am deeply sorry for my actions. Could you find it in your heart to forgive a horrible soul like me?"

"Harry, Harry please raise your head." Hermione flicked her tail in order to be close enough to touch Harry's arm in comfort. "I- I have no clear idea of what I feel: I am elated to see you but also terrified and I urn so badly to wake up. If, however, I am to take what you have said is true… then I am disappointed that you did not come sooner, but I am glad it was not later than that."

Harry had yet to raise his head, he had in fact looked the other way, towards one of the walls. "I'm relieved to hear that you do not hate me and wish me to rot in hell for all eternity, but… take these and put them on." Harry handed her two red and brown striped seashells, large enough to fit in Harry's palm.

"Why-" Hermione inquired, her voice raising octaves above her normal speaking tone. "Why am I barechested?"

"Well- ah, you see to become a Mermaid."

"Did you take off a young lady's clothes Harry Potter?" She wailed at him in a voice so high and shrill that if any glass were around it would shatter.

"No! No I did not take your clothes, so please put them on so you won't kill me for looking." Harry begged mournfully, holding the seashells out a bit further.

Furious and mortified Hermione snatched the seashells from Harry and secured them on her chest. At contact with her skin, the seashells molded into her skin and fit on snuggly. Hermione took short shallow, breaths, trying as she might to steady her breathing and bring it back to normal, but she couldn't help the indignation that swelled in her chest.

"You've seen me naked." Hermione hissed, crossing her arms in front of her scantily clad chest.

"Most merfolk are." Harry protested. "And please believe me when I say I did not remove your clothing, the Siren had done that, and I would never do that to a lady of respect such as yourself."

"Then why had you not covered me properly with a piece of my clothing or these shells the moment I was out of harm's way?"

"Because you had not been out of harm's way until I brought you to this cave. Regardless, to become a Merperson, you have certain steps that you must take. One of them being that a human must be fully unclothed of land and sea possessions during the time of transformation."

"The human must be _completely_ unclothed? How can any person stand ridding a man or woman in such a manner- it's deplorable!"

"It is deplorable, and I couldn't agree more. However, it was what needed to be done to turn you into a mermaid. There is a delicate window of opportunity for that matter you see."

"No, I do not see." Hermione sat down on a rock and tried to look as dignified in her stature as if she could still cross her feet at her ankles. "What exactly is the protocol for turning a human into a Merperson?"

Harry grimaced and held his hands behind his back. "To become a Merperson… First, the human has to be, pardon my phrasing, but the human must be freshly dead."

"Freshly?"

"Dead, yes. You died earlier today Hermione, and you were reborn a mermaid."

Hermione looked Harry over, she'd been assaulted by a Siren, died, and would have stayed dead had it not been for Harry. Hermione took a shallow breath. "Please continue, I won't interrupt again."

Harry surveyed her closely. "Yes, well, ah, after a human dies, which is typically due to a shipwreck or being thrown overboard, a Merperson might be around and choose to turn them into a Merperson. There are a few reasons why a Merperson would change a human, but we do not save every person or we'd have thousands of them swimming around. It's tricky business saving a human as there is no way to tell if the human will fit into mermaid life or be tricked into become a Siren… there are other ways for a Merperson to decide to save a human such as infatuation, or if a Spell Caster had called for us.

Regardless, after the human dies, and if there is a Merperson nearby who chooses to save them; then, comes the particulars." Harry took a slow breath before speaking. "Please do not be to outraged with the process and my actions, but once the human is dead the Merperson must strip them of human and ocean possessions, wrap them in seaweed from toes to shoulders so that the tail may properly form, and then kiss them until the transformation is complete." Harry fell silent, his last words trailing off as he waited for Hermione to process what he'd just said.

Hermione's eyes widened. "You stripped me."

"Technically no, but yes."

"Wrapped my bare body in seaweed."

"Ah, yes."

"And _kissed_ me?"

"Yes." Harry bit his lip as he watched the strangled expression on Hermione's face. "It is a process that is one-hundred percent necessary and I would not subject you to the more… revealing moments had it not been completely necessary."

She had not a clue if she should be mortified or furious to have such actions done onto her. It had been to save her, but at the cost of her purity? No man had seen her in a state as Harry now has seen her- only a husband should see that on her wedding night. Heat rose into her and Hermione covered her seashell clad chest in indignation. How could the process be so vulgar to- and then a thought dawned on Hermione.

"Harry." Hermione whispered. "What happened to you? If the process had to happen in the way it did then it had to have happened to you as well."

Harry sighed and folded his tail under him, resting on it as he sat on the floor of the cave. He looked up at Hermione and stated very clearly. "Everything I did was to save you, same as it was done to me as well. Only… seven years ago, near the end of October, I was eleven and traveling with my parents. During that time, everything was falling apart for the Potter lineage; every related man woman and child seemed to have disappeared or died, it was as if we were being hunted down by an invisible enemy. Us traveling together was of fear of having the same fate happen to us; i believe we were on our way to seek refuge with a friendly Kingdom."

"What underhanded, vile cretin would undo a family so good and just as yours?"

Harry shook his head. "I cannot be sure of the particulars but Luna, the mermaid who saved me that night, believes that the ferocity of the storm was caused by several Sirens working together. Their songs entrance humans as well as enhance the ferocity of the storms above, it's how they lure ships to their doom. It's the only explanation, but what she cannot fathom is why Sirens were working together, as they are more solitary creatures than merfolk and dislike one another's company."

Hermione wrapped her arms around herself and shivered. Her body vividly remembered the touch of the Siren and the pure terror that flooded her veins just a short while ago. "Dreadful… please continue Harry. I do not mean to interrupt you so frequently."

Harry chuckled softly. "It's your inborn curiosity to know and understand Hermione, I will never hold that against you." Harry's expression grew somber as he continued. "On that night, as we were traveling to a meeting with the nearby Weasley Kingdom, a storm rose around us from nowhere. My father was astounded- he'd never seen a storm like the one that descended on us. He was there with the crew as they tried to fight the winds and change our course, get us to safety. My mother was a Spell Caster, and I know you didn't believe in them back then Hermione, but they are real and my mother saved me that night. She called for help, and help came in the form of a Mermaid. It's because of her I was here today to save you."

"Your parents, King James and Queen Lilly are truly dead?"

Harry nodded solemnly. "I am the last remaining Potter, not that many would know or recognise me as such, being what I am."

Hermione flew from the rock and wrapped Harry in a comforting embrace. For the first time in what felt like a long while, she cried for the loss of her friend, his family, and for treating her friend as she had. "I'm so sorry Harry. So sorry for your parents, your family, and for my blind hatred towards you when you've suffered from all that and have been so lonely down here… It's good to see you, though I'm still appalled by your actions this evening."

Harry patted Hermione's back, chuckling slightly. "Thank you Hermione, your words of reprimanding affection are more than I could ask for."

For a while, Hermione could do nothing but weep into Harry's shoulder. He'd grown up so much in the years they had spent apart. He was taller than her, with defined arms and a kind features. He had been a thoughtful boy, always looking out for Hermione when they went exploring the ocean coast or the castle. Her status, so beneath his own, rarely bothered him at all. Try as she did, she could not pull herself together as new thoughts of Harry's misfortune or her own circumstances sent her into a new convulsion of tears. All the while, Harry held onto her, supporting her, and stroking her hair- all in an attempt to comfort her.

Thoughts of land crept into Hermione's mind again, and she looked up in the direction she felt home was. "Do you think they've noticed my absence?"

"I'm sure they have, and that your parents miss you terribly."

"You know I promised my mother that I would be back in time for supper. Father must be having the servants search for me if they haven't already found my shoes and satchel on the shore. My mother had warned me to stay away from the coast." Hermione's breath hitched in her throat. "Oh I should have listened to her. I should have told her I loved her."

"At times… I find it's best not to dwell on it. The thoughts of how my life could have been or how they are faring… it leaves me bitter and hateful but often times only a deep anguish…I often try to banish these notations so as to keep my sanity." Harry cradled her in his supportive arms, and this time Hermione could not cry. The crushing feelings of leaving her beloved mother and father as she did weighed on her entire being like lead weights. Any of her actions could have been different to have her avoid the fate she found herself in. What would she do now? Secretly watch her parents from afar? Watch her world live on without her? It took her longer than before to calm herself to the point of coherent speech, or movement.

"What do I do now Harry?" She croaked into his shoulder.

Harry's cheek rested atop her head as he held her. "Do you remember my mentioning the mermaid who saved me?"

Hermione nodded.

"She's a rare one, Luna, and she can tell a person's future, it's possibilities, and how to get there. If we go see her, maybe she can give you a better answer as to what you should do. She might be able to give you some guidance."

Hermione pulled back, breaking their hold so as to read Harry's expression and drink in his words. "I-Is that possible?"

Harry shook his head, a look of dejection evident in his eyes. "By now, she's probably expecting us." Harry swam back a few strokes and held out his hand. "Would you like to see her?"

Hermione hesitated, so much had changed for her: she had recognized her feelings for Viktor, as well as the repercussions if they both were to act on it, she was attacked by a Siren, saved by a merman who turned out to be her good friend she had thought died seven years ago, she died and became a mermaid, and she could no longer return to the surface world lest she be discovered and hunted down. Would it be worth staying under the ocean? Shouldn't she at least try to return to the world above? For if she were to stay under the sea, Hermione was sure she would die from not knowing what would happen if she had only tried to return.

But there was Harry, his scales gleaming in the light around him. His hair floated gently around his features and a smile lighting his face that would melt any maiden's heart. A world of possibilities surrounded him, the promise that all will be alright. Hermione flicked her tail, propelling her forward to float beside Harry.

Hermione took Harry's hand with a smile. "I would love to meet her."

"Perfect." Harry gripped her hand and with a flick of his tail he guided her along, into the deeper part of the vast ocean.

* * *

Ending Author's Note: Please follow and review to inspire me. I am going to school, but I will try to be consistent in posting :)


	3. Chapter 3

Mermaid Chapter 3

The ocean water outside their small cave slowly became lighter. Rays of light danced around Harry and Hermione as they swam along with other schools of colorful fish. Hermione watched the sea life move around them with a mixture of wonder and fascination.

The water flowing over Hermione was akin to the touch of fine silk. With the slightest contraction in her abdomen, her tail rolled to propel her forward. Her arms were slack at her sides; there'd never been a more peaceful moment measureable to now.

"It's beautiful, a whole new world." She breathed out as she watched a stingray travel low to the ground. "I've never seen the ocean up close such as this. Have you ever seen something so tranquil and breathtaking?"

"I know no other sight more enticing. The natural grace of the water and the life it holds is one of the positives. The view can be pleasant and light, but if you stray to far into the deep, it's deathly terrifying. Stay away from those places if you can."

Hermione laughed nervously. She had no intentions of the kind. "Does it even get lonely, being by yourself?"

Harry shook his head. "I've been on my own, yes, but I know that I'm never truly alone. Not even in the slightest. Merfolk like to stick together, and we've made a little village of sorts- I call it The Grove." Harry lazily swam in a corkscrew, the light accentuated his upper body.

"What does it look- Harry James Potter what's on your arms?" Hermione's eyes widened at the sight of stark white marking covering Harry's arms and upper torso.

Harry, who had been swimming in darker waters, had revealed his injured arms when he spun into the light. He winced at the tone of Hermione's voice and withdrew them from sight as Hermione came closer to examine them.

"Ah, yes, well-" Harry steadied his spinning and put a slight distance between the two of them. All along his arm were licks of pearly white streaks; they wrapped around his arm like chains, slinking up to his shoulder and parts of his torso.

"Did that damned Siren do that to you?" Hermione grabbed at Harry's arms and pulled one towards and examined the markings on his skin. They had stopped swimming altogether at that point. "They look to be third degree burns, but they seem to be healing… have you been reckless and saving some baby animal from a heat geyser? Oh Harry…"

Harry covered one of Hermione's free hands with his own; Hermione shifted her gaze from his arm to his eyes. "I'm fine now, really. But yeah, they are burns."

"What happened?"

Harry grimaced. "I didn't get these burns from the Siren, or being stupidly heroic… you caused them."

Hermione noted the steadiness in which he spoke, but the words he spoke were lost on her. "I- What? How? I don't have powers like that… do I?"

"You do, Hermione." Harry disclosed, he reassuring patted her hand. "You'll have to accept that there is magic in this world, and I promise I was going to tell you, I just wasn't sure exactly how."

Hermione's body had gone cold. Had she truly hurt her friend to the point where burns this severe covering his arms? Was she a danger to others?

Harry noticed Hermione's pale facial features and tripped over his next words."There's nothing to worry about. I'm fine, you see the color of my tail?" Harry swished his tail, making it glint in the dim light. It was a deep, emerald green, a few shades darker than his eyes.

"It's green, but what does that have to do with-"

"Wait," Harry interrupted her. "What is the color of your tail?"

For the first time, Hermione glanced down at the lower portion of her body. Her tail was not as long as Harry's and was a vibrant red that glimmered brightly against her skin.

"It's red. So what?"

"Merfolk have powers Hermione, and the color of their tail indicates what powers they have. A green tail is the power of self healing, so when I sustain an injury I recover quickly, swifter than any other mermaid or merman of another colored tail. Watch my arm now." Harry moved his arm closer to Hermione, to make her look.

As she watched, the white licks of fire darkened in color and seemed to recede backwards. "Oh my. Your wounds are shrinking; they're really healing!"

"It's the magic of the green tail Hermione. Green tails are not common, and neither are red tails. In fact, most of the tails are rare, besides blue and orange, but I'll get to those in a moment. Red tails can summon blue fire of immense heat. The ocean water doesn't cool it and it doesn't sizzle when exposed to water. It's often used to ward away or burn creatures that the individual deems dangerous. Do you remember when you were tied up in seaweed? You were terrified and let that feeling come out as fire and burn away the seaweed. Remember?"

The memory of a vivid blue fire surfaced in Hermione's memory. Releasing it had been as easy as breathing for her, it came up from the terror that built up in her heart. But as she examined Harry's arms her wonder turned to misery. "I-I, could you forgive me for that?"

"It's alright, really. I'm just glad that I'm a green tail, because if I had been another colored tail you might've put me in a precarious situation. But it would've hurt them, but don't worry about me. I was careless when I handled you, so I do deserve it."

Hermione knocked him in the head. "Idiot."

Harry chuckled softly. "Ouch, sorry. We should hurry; I'd like to reach home before night falls. We can swim and talk." Harry squeezed Hermione's hand and pulled away, taking the lead.

"Okay, so you say that as I'm a red tail, I can control fire; then, there's a green tail who can heal-"

"Self heal- I can't heal others."

"Okay, self heal, but what other colors are there?"

"Well, a blue tail is the most common tail there is. They're able to calm currents, turn tides, create storms or calm them. Although, creating or calming storms can often require seven blue tails. But at the very least they can change the direction of ships. A small nudge can often save hundreds of lives you know. We don't have any statistics for you, but I'm sure blue tales have saved millions."

"Oh wow." Hermione murmured. "What about the other tails?"

"In total, there are seven colors for merfolk. You know blue, red, and green already. Then there is orange, yellow, purple, and pink. An orange tail has the power of empathy or 'the truth'. An orange tail would be able to tell if an individual truly felt sincere, or believed in what they were speaking. They are slightly less common than blue, but they make a large majority of the population. It's a good thing they do because they're also the most resistant to a Siren's song. It works out because a majority of the time a Siren is not at all sincere and they only want to rip you into tiny bits. They are a wonderful friend to have, just never try to throw them a secret birthday celebration- they'll know you're holding something back." Harry rolled his eyes, he'd obviously attempted to do that to an orange tail himself.

Hermione snorted at the thought of Harry trying to hide anything from a friend- you wouldn't need special powers for that.

"Anyways," Harry continued. "Another one is the yellow tail. Now this color I love, and if I could choose any other tale to have it'd be a yellow tail. Cause it gives the Merperson the power to shapeshift into any sea creature. They can turn into penguins, sharks, you name it, but not any land animal. So there is a restriction there. There's also the pink tail that has the power of invisibility, which is self explanatory- just don't knock anything over. Then the last one is the purple tail, which has the power to see visions of the future."

"Really? How clearly?" Possibilities came into Hermione's mine, what if they were like fortune tellers and could answer the questions that you wanted answered? Or talking to the great beyond?

"Well, it's pretty clear, but other times not so much. The foggier it is the less likely it'll happen, or it's because it's so far in the future that it could change; at least that's what I think- future telling can be tricky business from what my friend tells me. Sometimes visions come to her, sometimes they can answer a question that a Merperson asked. One time she predicted that my friend would fall in love with a pig, and guess what?"

Hermione snorted with laughter. "Oh dear. Did he fall in love with a pig then?"

"Nope, at least she says not yet." Harry grinned over at Hermione. "Who knows what she'll say when she meets you."

"Who is the 'she' you've been referring?"

"Oh yeah, it's my friend Luna. She's a laugh, you never know what'll come next… Now that I think about it, when you meet her you may or may not like her. She can get some getting used to. She's- she can seem as blunt as rock, and she doesn't go by the book on most accounts but she knows what she's talking about and she means well. For some reason purple tails seem to all have acted like that."

"How many purple tales have you known then?"

"Um… counting Luna? Two. The other one went by the name Trelawney, and she seemed totally off her rocker if you asked me. But the more I was around her the more I saw that the crazy things she said were true. Once she warned for me to stay away from blue flowers unless I wanted to be bedridden for a week"

"Was it some sort of poisonous flower? Cause that's just common sense."

"No, It actually turned out to be a treasure chest that had been decorated with blue flowers; I'd been along for my first shipwreck scavenge and saw it under the ship's figurehead, so I stayed the hell away from that thing. Good thing I did, cause the figurehead head came loose and toppled down onto the chest."

"So then the purple tails have some merit?" Hermione rolled her bottom lip between her teeth.

"I'd say so." Harry shrugged. "So if you have any pressing questions, you can ask Luna or Trelawney. If it's about merfolk life I can give it a go."

Hermione pursed her lips and thought a moment. Would she live the rest of her life as a mermaid? There were no books to read, probably, at least she figured since they were underwater. She didn't know if there was a social life of any kind. Did a life in the ocean resemble one on land? How would that even look like? There were so many questions to ask.

"Alright, you can think on that or a bit." Harry said, wrapping his hand over Hermione's. "Anyways, we won't make it to The Grove at this pace. Luna lives on our way there, she's about a three minute swim away and we could take the rest of the trip come dawn."

Hermione bit her lower lip, "Alright."

Harry shrugged, a corner of his mouth turning up. "You'll get the hang of it, everyone does."

But for Hermione, she wasn't sure she wanted to get used to it. She had had a good life on land. She was about to start a career, the most any woman could have, she lived comfortably and had all the books she could ever read. She might have had a life with Viktor, might have had. Now, she'd never know. Perhaps, perhaps the mermaid Luna would know as to what she could do to return.

If you had asked Hermione a week ago on her thoughts on magic and magical creatures she would have explained every 'magical' instance with a perfectly logical explanation. She would pull out papers and textbooks on formulas and ask if magic had references, which they don't. To her, there was no such thing as 'wave a wand' magic. Magic wasn't born from within- it was created through calculation and precision.

It was why Hermione was having a difficult time coming to terms that she no longer had ten toes and her childhood friend, who she presumed to be dead, was floating right next to her whistling into the open door owned by a purple tail mermaid named Luna, who could supposedly see the future. Somethings couldn't be explained in a research paper.

The house, as Harry called it, was a natural cave in the ground with seaweed covering the entranceway like drapes. There was a shiney purple stone embedded over the entrance way, and besides the stone and the seaweed covered entryway, it didn't seem out of place.

"Just remember." Harry muttered out of the corner of his mouth. "Act nice."

"I am the epitome of nice and mannerisms."

"Just, just be mindful, please. And don't mention that- Luna! How nice to see you." Harry's voice raised to a normal speaking tone when a blonde head poked out from between the seaweed.

The moment Luna opened the door to Harry and Hermione to welcome them, Hermione noticed right away what Harry hadn't wanted her to mention. There were starfish for earrings hanging at her ears, one of which looked there had been a bite taken out of it, her hair had seaweed strands woven into it, and she had a necklace of bottle caps. But the most shocking thing was her lack of shells. She had answered the door with nothing covering her chest but her own long hair.

Hermione determinedly watched the sway of Luna's partially eaten radish.

"Harry." Luna greeted in a dreamy, far-off tone. "How wonderful to see you. I'm glad that you made it to your friend in time. Are you going to introduce me to her?"

"Ah, yes, this is Hermione. We were friends when I was a human boy. Hermione, this is Luna."

"Charmed, but what did you mean 'made it to your friend in time?" Hermione asked, addressing Luna in the eye rather than her radish.

Luna cocked her head to the side and regarded Hermione. "Oh dear, of course I knew. I was the one who saw it happening, but the moment I mentioned it to Harry he took off without another word; then, the future changed and here you are. Isn't the future a mysterious place? But… I don't see you staying for long."

"Ah, well we'll be heading into The Grove in the morning." Harry explained. "We were actually wondering if you would let us rest here."

Luna shook her head, her eyes taking on a far-off look. "Hermione, you want to return to the human world. Is that right?"

"O-of course I do yes." Hermione answered enthusiastically.

"It's not clear, but I do see it… there isn't a future I see that doesn't involve you getting legs somehow. You seem very determined."

Hermione could get legs somehow and return, her emotions of delight were beyond that which words could describe. If it was anything like 'The Little Mermaid' she would have to be exceptionally careful as to whom she'd make a deal with. But she could return to her old life- and she'd have to think up a story to tell her parents as to where'd she'd been.

"Oh thank you Luna." Hermione reached out and took Luna's hand in both of hers. "Thank you. How do I get legs then? Is there some sea witch that'll give me legs for my voice? Something along those lines?"

Luna glanced from Harry to Hermione and back again. "Why, you don't know?"

Confused, Hermione looked between Luna and Harry, obviously missing something.

The corners of Harry's lips turned down. "It didn't seem like something to tell her to quickly. It's a lot on information to take in all at once."

"Wouldn't that have been _my_ choice to make?" Hermione questioned incredulously. "A life of magic under the sea isn't something I want to live in Harry. It doesn't make sense, and I have a life up there, people who love me and miss me like my parents and a man I fancy. You don't have a- You wouldn't- I mean, I-"

Harry backed away from the two mermaids, and it felt as if the water temperature had dropped in the few seconds it took Hermione to regret every word that had spilled out. Without a word, he swam away over Luna's house.

"Harry, wait!" Hermione shot upwards and was hot on Harry's tail. "Wait, please wait!"

"Why? You think I don't have people who I miss? You don't think there aren't people I still love up there?"

"I'm sorry. I am so sorry I was insensitive and rude and an awful person for- for even insinuating that you don't have- that there wasn't a life for you up there."

"Yeah, you were rude, and you don't know anything Hermione."

"Then tell me! What do I not know? I can't read minds Harry."

"Loving people who live up there is… near impossible. You can't really be with them as you are, as a merperson. I can talk to her but I can never truly _be_ with her."

"What was her name?"

Harry's nose crinkled and the corners of his mouth turned up. "Ginny. Her name is Ginny."

"Ginny?" Hermione repeated. "The youngest of the Weasleys? The girl with six older brothers?" Hermione remembered when the Weasley's had visited and Harry and Ron, the youngest Weasley boy, became as thick as thieves. Hermione became fast friends with Ginny and the four of them spent weeks playing together while Hermione's mother tutored the older Weasley boys. Ginny was a fierce and independent young girl who would take the lead on their excursions more than any of them.

Harry snorted and nodded. "She… I knew the moment she tackled me into the dirt that I was going to spend the rest of my life making her laugh." Harry shifted his gaze towards the surface as if he were remembering.

"Had you seen her since you became a merman?"

Harry rolled his lower lip between his teeth. "Yes, I couldn't leave the land alone as much as I knew I should've. She had gotten caught in the seaweed when swimming and she was losing consciousness so I got her out and I-" Harry's face burned up and he didn't continue his thought. When he spoke next, his voice broke and his eyes shone. "But do you know what the worst part about loving a human is, Hermione? I have this constant fear that she's going to forget me. The way her brown eyes light up and her laugh carves themselves into my heart. But then I can't bear to watch her because I'm not the one she'll choose in the end- I know it. She's not mine Hermione, but I fell hopelessly in love with her. And it sucks because I know I should forget her- I need to forget her to have the chance of being happy, but the memory of her comes back and I know, I know in my heart that she is what will make me happy."

"Harry…" Hermione wanted to say something, anything at all that could bring Harry some comfort. Although she'd had years of making conversation out of thin air, words were lost on her. It near broke Hermione's heart to hear him talk about the girl. Why did Harry's family had to have been hunted down like they were? What reason could they possibly have for tearing down an empire? If it hadn't been for that October night Harry might be leading the most successful Kingdom of the era. Hermione's chest ached at the thought. Harry would've had such a better life. So instead of words, Hermione swam up next to Harry and wrapped her arms around him, resting her head on his shoulder.

Harry stroked her head, and forced a smile that didn't _quite_ meet his eyes.

"Harry? Why don't you get legs, if there's a way."

"There's a way but… the way that we know about we don't know the limitations to or what'll happen afterwards." Harry pulled away from Hermione and looked her in the eye. "The only way I know that you can get legs is if a red tail burns your tail in two."

Hermione's eyebrows shot up into her hairline. "A red tail?"

Harry nodded. "My dad's friend Sirius had become a merperson, a red tail, and he was here until a week before I… became one too. Apparently he'd figured out how to get his legs and he had some business up on land. It was the last anyone heard of him. Hermione," Harry's voice dropped, becoming fast and fevered. "I don't know what happened to him. I don't know anything that'll happen if you burn your tail and go up there."

Hermione puffed out her chest. "Then I guess I'll be the one to figure it out."

"Well you'll need a dress for when you go up there." Came Luna's dreamy voice. Hermione and Harry turned to see Luna drifting towards them, dragged down by a pale yellow dress and a pair of matching shoes. She stopped just a few feet away and had a dreamy smile on her face. "I hope you weren't planning on transforming stark naked?"

Hermione cracked a smile. "There isn't much of a plan really, or anything to change into."

Luna held out the outfit to Hermione and a pile of clothes to Harry. Harry stared at the bundle extended to him with wonder, like he wasn't sure what he was seeing. With shaking hands, Harry took the clothes as if he expected them to vanish into bubbles.

"Will it be safe?" Harry questioned.

Luna shrugged. "There are several futures that I can see, but in each one of them the two of you are together. Neither of you were meant to be a merperson, it's not for everyone, but keep in mind to stay away from the water."

Hermione took the dress, her mouth slightly ajar. "What should we do? Where should we go?"

Luna pursed her lips and twirled her hair in her hands, mindlessly braiding it. "There will be a boy who will fall into the ocean… He will bring you home Hermione… "

"Great." Harry answered. "So where do we find him? When?"

"Oh, maybe in two… three…"

"Weeks? Days?"

"Maybe four…"

"Four what?"

A shiny glimmer over Luna's shoulder caught Hermione's eyes. It was close to the surface and sinking slowly. Hermione could barely make it out; it was the size of her thumb but she knew what it was. It was the boy Luna just mentioned, and he was sinking right before her eyes.

Hermione could hear the blood rushing into her ears as she dropped the dress and shot off like a rocket towards the sinking figure. Her body ached from her tiring day of swimming but she pushed her muscles onwards. It couldn't be, was she going to become human so soon? She could see her parents. She could see Viktor.

First, she'd have to get to him in time. If he died- no, Hermione would get there in time and save him. What if she didn't make it though? Anxiety bubbled up in her chest at the thought.

"Please." Hermione muttered to herself as her muscles screamed at her to slow down. "Please be okay. You can't die; I'm here."

The boy finally came into view and Hermione was struck with his looks. His features were sharp and angular, with high cheek bones and platinum blonde hair that looked almost white. He was finely dressed in a deep green overcoat and chains hung from his body, which had faintly reflected and had tipped Hermione off to where he was. There was a weight attached to the chains, weighing him down. Hermione's stomach was turning and all she wanted was to free the boy from his chains.

Air bubbles were escaping his lips. Seeing that had relief flood Hermione's system; he wasn't dead yet, but she'd had to work fast.

Using the adrenaline that launched her towards him, Hermione summoned a ball fire to her hand; it tickled her palm almost, and it felt comfortable to have summoned it, like it was a part of her. She focused it into her index finger, isolating it and making it become a single column of flame, illuminating everything around them. With a single stroke, she sliced the weight and chains from his body, careful to not singe the boy or his clothing.

The water felt lighter and warmer, partly from the flame and partly from Hermione's own joy. He was going to be alright.

Hermione then hooked her arm around him and swam to the surface. There was a image of a ship above, he must have been thrown off of it, so she had to avoid being seen. There was the swish of movement below her and Hermione glanced back to see Harry following her.

"We should take him just in front of the ship and stay out of sight." Harry suggested, leveling at Hermione's shoulder with the both sets of clothes in his arms. "There's no way to be seen from a ship that way. If we go there and make sure the boy is okay, then we can take him to shore. Shore is only a mile away. We'll have to be careful though; we don't know who the boy is and we can't have him see us before we regain our legs."

Hermione nodded and shot towards the front of the boat, hoping that all of them would survive the night. With Harry at her side, she had a soothing calm wash over her. If she had her friend beside her, they could figure everything out. Harry could find Ginny and she could find Viktor and everything could more or less return to normalcy. Hermione's heart beat kicked up a notch, everything was going to work out.

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Ending Author's note: Who do you think threw the boy off the ship? How will his and Hermione's relationship grow? leave you answers, or thoughts in the comments!


	4. Chapter 4

Hermione's head broke the surface of the turbulent waters in front of the vast ship where the boy had fallen from, breathing in for the first time since she'd become a mermaid. The night air rushed into her throat as she gasped, stinging her lungs as they readjusted to the change in respiration.

The man bobbed up, wrapped in Hermione's arms and weighed down by his clothing. Hermione looked down at him, the man wasn't moving. Harry surfaced next to Hermione, the clothes held tightly in his arms.

The boy was decorated in fine clothing that was reserved to higher positions of power. His face, strong and stoic, was unnervingly pale with a tinge of blue in his lips. Due to the way he surfaced, his hair was perfectly slicked backwards to show his features, and it struck Hermione that he appeared as if he were sound asleep.

"Where's land? Harry what do I do?" An icy chill, which had nothing to do with the night air, consumed her. This boy's life was in her hands. There must be people who loved him and would be heartbroken would he to perish. They also had to be careful so as to not be seen by those on board.

Harry turned in the water, searching. "There, turn left and swim as quickly as you can. I know a patch of rocks that blocks the view from the beach. Hurry, we need to resuscitate him."

"But how can we be sure the humans on board don't see us?"

Harry bit his lip as he glanced up. "We'll have to swim a bit underwater then. As quickly as we can, there's no other way."

Panic flooded Hermione's system as she launched herself and the boy towards the shore. Harry came up on the boy's other side, adding his strength to hers and together they neared the shore.

Hermione could see the bottom of the ocean rise to meet them and she lifted the boy so that his face was above water.

 _Please be okay. Please please please be okay._

The ocean floor rose to the point where they could no longer swim and Hermione dragged him slightly farther up the shore till half his body was anchored in sand.

Harry tossed the clothes father up on the sand and felt for a pulse as Hermione began pumping his heart.

"It's faint, but he's there Hermione." Harry's voice was tinged with relief. "Keep working on him."

Hermione wiped her hair away from her face as she parted the boy's lips and bent over him. She would not lose this boy's life, he could live a human life, one she longed for. He must live; she would not accept anything less.

Hermione pumped his heart and breathed life into him. Each time becoming more determined.

After a full minute, the boy began coughing and hacking up water. He curled into himself and turned on his side, towards Hermione. Relief flooded Hermione's system and she collapsed into the sand besides the boy. He was going to be okay, he was going to survive. Hermione saved him, he was going to live.

She gazed into his face, watching the slight color return to his cheeks and lips. Now that she had a decent look at him, she could not deny his handsome features. Hermione's heart pounded in her chest at the memory of her lips on his. Although it was to save his life, she couldn't help but recall the texture and softness of them.

While her thoughts ran rampant, his eyes cracked open and gazed up at Hermione. She saw the confusion in his clouded gray eyes before his head fell back into the sand. The eye contact only lasted a moment.

"H-Harry, he saw me." Hermione whispered, sitting up and brushing sand from her arm. "What do we do?"

"We need to get back in the water. He can't see us."

"But he'll know someone saved him." Hermione argued, monitoring his face to make sure he didn't start opening his eyes. "Should we change now? Get our legs?"

Hermione's hair stood on end, and not from the night air licking her body. If they didn't either return to the water or make a decision as to what to do she was sure they would be discovered by the boy they just saved.

"But do you even know how to separate your tail? I don't know what'll happen if you do." Harry breathed in a soft undertone.

"Luna said that this boy would be important right? Because we saved him perhaps he'll treat us to voyage, other clothes."

"Hermione…" Harry pressed his lips back together, holding in his comment. Instead, he reached up to the clothing and fetched Hermione's, throwing it at her. "Separate your tail, use your fire like how you did with your chains. It's probably the way to do it."

Hermione caught the dress Harry tossed to her, it was heavy and cold to the touch. Hermione braced herself as she forced the dress over her head and bunched up the fabric to lay just above her waist, giving her a clear view of her tail. It wouldn't hurt to hard right?

She felt the burning desire for her legs, and the remaining fear she held for losing the boy's life. Hermione summoned blue fire to her palm and quickly condensed it to her index finger like a candle wick. She reached down to her fin and put the flame on the notch of her tail.

It was as if she had placed a branding iron to her skin- she could hear the fire sear and sizzle against her skin. She pushed through it. The more pain she felt the stronger she fed the flame, moving it up her tail. Tears sprang into her eyes as all warmth left her body to be replaced by chills and tremors that threatened to spams her lower half. Hermione focused on the flame, ignoring the searing trail of pain she was leaving behind her. Hermione wanted to buck her legs and cry in agony, but the moment the flame was gone and her lower half relaxed, she realized she had her legs back. The scales were now skin, smooth as they were when she was human.

Cold relief and ecstasy swept between her legs as Hermione fell back onto the rocks. Her lower half tingled with excitement. She'd never experienced something so painful and enjoyable at the same time.

A light breeze grazed her legs, making Hermione realize her dress was still wrapped at her waist. She hurriedly tugged it down and glanced over at the pale boy. His chest was moving slightly and some color returned to his features, then he coughed.

Harry gave the boy a once over, edging closer to the water. "He'll be waking up soon. I won't be far but there's no time for me. Good luck Hermione. I'll find you later."

"Harry wait!" Hermione called softly after him, but it was no use. He'd already gotten deep enough into the ocean waves to disappear completely.

With Harry gone Hermione looked around her, absorbing in her surroundings. The patch of land was tucked away in a nook of beach and rocks, but there was a small opening to the other part of the beach that was dry. Hermione sighed in relief in seeing that opening; It wasn't time to test how well her legs would be in the water.

Hermione glanced down at her dress, noting the salt that clung to her chest and how crusty the dress was. It appeared a little too in character with someone who swam out to save a drowning boy, and the color appeared faded. Hermione played with the ties in front and in back, glancing back at the young man to make sure he didn't flutter his eyelids open.

After securing a tighter hold of cloth to skin, Hermione leaned over to look at the boy. He was rather handsome, the angles of his face drew her eyes back to his lips, or upwards to his eyes.

Hermione raised a tentative hand to touch him; his lips parted and blew out a soft breath of warm air. She was sure that in this situation she should make sure he was conscious at least. Hermione placed a hand on his shoulder and rocked his upper body.

"Sir? Are you conscious? Can you hear me?"

The man groaned, coughing again and rolling onto his side to spit up some water. His eyes cracked open, meeting Hermione's with a clouded gaze.

"W-who are you?"

Hermione let out a sigh of relief at his voice. "My name is Hermione. What's yours?"

"Draco." Draco squeezed his eyes tight and opened them again. "Am I dead?"

Hermione smiled softly, touching his arm in a form of comfort. "No, you're not dead. You're very much alive."

Draco's tongue ran over his lips and his head lolled back to rest on the sand. "Okay."

There was silence then, as Hermione watched Draco sink into the sand. Hermione's thoughts ricocheted around the walls of her mind. She had saved him, but she didn't know why he had been chained and thrown from that ship. What kingdom was he from? Was he part of the royal court? Did he betray the royal court? Where were they regardless? She'd swam hundreds of miles over sea; they were several miles away from the ship Draco had fallen from.

Then there was the fact he said 'okay', what was going through his mind at that very moment Hermione couldn't be sure. She was a quick read of people, but not with someone wholly new to her.

"Sir?"

"Draco.!" He hissed sharply, his eyebrows shooting up into his hairline.

"Oh, alright." Hermione exasperated. " _Draco_ , do you know _why_ you were floating at sea?"

Draco nodded.

"Do you know where you are?"

Again he nodded, his eyes closong.

Hermione rubbed between her brows, trying to avoid the headache that was soon to come. He must have his reasons as to why he was withholding information, but she couldn't help him or return to the Kingdom of Durmstrang if she didn't at least know where they were or how far away help was.

"Then, do you know of someone who is close by that we could go to for help? Because you surely will not survive the night in sopping wet clothes." Hermione crossed her arms and waited for a response from the indifference boy in front of her.

His eyes fluttered open and he tilted his head, surveying Hermione and her attire. His lips pursed and he turned his head away; Hermione noted a slight return of color to his complexion. She quickly looked down at her dress and didn't perceive anything overly wrong with it, nothing explicit was showing.

"I know a place close-by. Did you come to the coast by yourself?"

Hermione inhaled sharply, she hadn't prepared a background story at all. The best thing would be to tell the truth- or a close version of it.

"I did have company, but my carriage was robbed and all my belongings were taken. Because I could no longer pay them, my companions left."

"They _what?_ " Draco's eyes locked in with Hermione's, his eyebrows drawn low. "Such barbarians think that they can raise themselves up by their bootstraps by robbing the riches of others? You could have no harsher fate than being robbed of all possessions."

Heat rose to Hermione's cheeks. "Possessions does equal the quality of a man or woman. I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself, thank you."

Draco rose, first his elbows, then sitting back on his knees. His eyebrows were furrowed together, his shoulders tense and pushed backwards. "It's not that I doubt your level of competence, but the fact that they had the nerve to retract their deal. At the very least if they delivered you to your destination an agreement could have been reached. Where do you need to go? I am sure I can secure you safe passage."

Draco's nose was level with Hermione's. Their breath mingled between them and she took the full force of the intensity behind his eyes and the way his nostrils flared. It had been a while since someone had shown such a protective demeanor towards her.

"I was on my way to the Kingdom of Durmstrang: I'm in training as the royal tutor, and had been away tutoring another family."

Draco nodded and leaned back slightly. His eyes darted away, up the coast, a line of thought forming along his brow. "The royal _tutor to be_ then? Right… I will be able to secure you safe passage on my- the next opportunity."

Hermione's lips twitched up into a wide smile. She hadn't expected to be able to be on her way home so quickly. "Thank you. When do you suppose they would be able to set sail?"

Draco scoffed. "In the direction of Durmstrang? We hardly trade with them this time of year. You'd be lucky to have a ship setting sail in that direction in two months."

Hermione wrapped her arms around her waist, holding herself in. "Two months?" She croaked.

"Ah, yes. We do not deal with them until the leaves turn amber, as that's when hunting season is most profitable for us."

Hermione's shoulders slumped forward.

Draco pinched his nose, his lips pursed. "I am sure my mother would expect me to invite for you to stay with us in our abode on account of you saving my life… Would that be acceptable to you?"

Hermione's teeth chattered slightly as a strong breeze whipped up around her. "That is very kind of you. Thank you."

Luna had been right; this was the boy who would bring her home. But it did not seem like she would be on her return home tomorrow. She could have swam home by now, if she wanted, but after her story of being robbed of all possessions, she would possibly have to find out another way to leave in a respectable manner. Why had she listened to Harry and Luna? She could have saved the boy and immediately have left, returned home, and became a human there. But, a voice in the back of her mind nagged her, there was a possibility that once burning her tail it would be harder to transition between merfolk and human. Harry and Luna had said not much was known about the extent of a red tails' power.

The corners of Draco's mouth fluttered up, but he pressed them down into a hard line. Draco made a move to stand. "We should be on our way and find-"

Hermione didn't find out what they were suppose to find, because right as he tried to stand he instead fell forward, knocking into Hermione. His water logged arms instinctively wrapped around Hermione's head as the two toppled into the sand. Their cold bodies melding together, creating its own layer of chilled warmth.

Draco's cheek was pressed against Hermione's, and her heart shot up into her throat, chest heaving. There was an attractive man with his arms wrapped around her. She squeezed her eyes tight, trying to project the image of Viktor, but his face eluded her and all she could see was the image of Draco's intense expression from a moment ago. The two laid there in the sand, gasping for air, before Draco pushed himself up and away from Hermione's body, sprawled over the sand.

Draco sat up next to her, g;ancing down at the chains loosly wrapped at his feet. "You hadn't removed the chains?"

"Ah, well I was a bit more concerned with your life at the moment. You didn't seem to be responding at all."

Draco nodded and untangled himself from the chains before swiftly pushing himself up into a standing position. "Well regardless, I hadn't meant to- the chains was- Will you accept an apology?"

"Accepted." Hermione breathed in the lingering scent of Draco, a strong fragrance of salt water with the faintest hint of pine needles.

The corners of Draco's mouth twitched, but forced to pan out into a straight line. His body was unusually rigid, making Hermione slightly uneasy. Did he notice something about her that was fishy? Did she smell like a fish?

These thoughts were interrupted by Draco extending a hand. Hermione took it and lifted herself up as gracefully as she could. It had only been a day, but her legs felt weak and buckled like a newborn calf as she tried to stand. Draco caught her around the waist and tucked her against his side. Heat coursed through her body, a mixture of embarrassment and strange excitement; Draco was acting ever the gentleman to a woman he hardly knew.

Hermione's gaze shifted to Draco's and found his eyes pouring back, noting the slight darkness under his eyes and the sand that dusted his complexion.

Draco's eyes flitted away as he released Hermione at the waist and offered an arm for support. Hermione took his arm as he led Hermione from their place on the cove and into the inner parts of the beach.

The night air was cold upon Hermione's face and she longed for a bath of warm, unsalted water. Her eyes drifted shut, and her thoughts wandered to her journey home and the story she would have to think up regarding her abrupt departure.

What if they thought she was dead? Her parents and relatives presiding over an empty casket, never knowing that Hermione was alive. She began to feel like a newborn calf again, and the ground began to sway beneath her.

"Hermione? Hermione!" The sharp voice of Draco cut through her spiraling thoughts as he brought her to his chest, fully supporting her slackened body. "What's happened? Are you ill?"

Right now, what were her parents doing? They must be searching. They would have been up all night with worry only to be brought her satchel. Rumors would start of how she disappears ranging from kidnap to the truth of a Siren luring her out to the ocean.

Then there was Viktor, what would he think of her disappearance? Would he worry? Would he be out searching through the night? Would he be unable to eat? Or worse, would he not be bothered by her disappearance? Would her disappearing have made his life easier? Hermione's entire body began to shake. The crushing oppression of the unknown rocked her to her soul.

Hermione gasped for air, hyperventilating into Draco's chest.

"Hermione? What is it?"

"What, what if they don't want me back? What if they think I'm dead?"

"Dead? You'd only be delayed, if we send a communication to Durmstrang's Spell Caster then we should be able to give them the message that you're alright. And as for wanting you back, I can't imagine anyone wouldn't want you back. I'm more worried about my family."

"Y-your family? What do you mean?" Hermione was back to breathing normally.

"Do you not know who I am?" Draco scoffed, his chest deflating slightly.

Hermione looked him up and down, trying to remember if there was some way she knew him. She'd learned of minor royalty near and around Durmstrang, but she had never heard of a Draco. Then again, she hardly knew what territory she was in. The texts she read from history mentioned individuals by their full name, but those mentioned were Kings and Queen or people of prominence; this man before her was too young to make a mark in a history book, surely. "No, no I do not believe so."

Draco breathed in slowly through his nostrils and rolled his shoulders back. "My full name is Draco Lucius Malfoy, Crown Prince of the Kingdom of Salazar. From this point onward, referring to me as simply 'Draco' will not be tolerated."

Hermione's eyes widened and her lips parted into an 'o'; it was no wonder she did not connect Draco to the Kingdom of Salazar. Not knowing where she was wasn't her excuse; the announcement of his birth was overshadowed by the aftermath of the First Spell Caster War, a war in which Spell Casters from all Kingdoms fought against the lone Kingdom of Salazar.

Thirty years ago, the Kingdom of Salazar started a ten year bloodbath. Their armies ravaged lands and engulfed smaller Kingdoms into them. They won at land and sea, conquering and boasting of their prowess. Attempts to thwart them broke out, and for a time, both land and sea were drenched in red. Spell Casters came to a head, enchanting their respective armies with strength or endurance to thwart enemies. Every royal Spell Caster focused all their abilities on the threat, yet somehow they came up short more often than not.

After the repeated losses, rumors started to spread that the Kingdom of Salazar had been holding some secret in their castle. A power that could part oceans and bring Hell's fire from the sky- something so powerful that the largest army mustered by the Sovereign Nation of Godric, the Kingdom of Rowena, the Commonwealth of Helga, and the Kingdom of Burrough could not defeat. It had long been speculated that it was Salazar's resident Spell Caster who was behind the mysterious power, but a Spell Caster could never hold the power that the Kingdom of Salazar conquered with. It would, theoretically, have taken nearly five dozen Spell Casters, and there were hardly that many in the world realm.

However, although the mystery of the supposed 'mysterious power' continues to be a subject of speculation from royal courts to taverns, the most puzzling part was how quickly it had ended. Out of the nowhere, the Kingdom of Salazar's King, King Thomas, disappeared. Over the course of two months, the King's second cousin, the Duke of Black, rose to power. The Duke, now King Lucius Malfoy, came forward and apologised for his family's actions, and reinstated the Kingdoms they had taken over. Playing the part of a saint by investing in run down areas, encouraging feedback and trade. He personally traveled to other nations and territories to speak of the evil he had been forced to watch, yet whenever the subject of the 'power' the Kingdom once possessed, he could not speak. In his words 'Once the spell, or should I say restraint, lifted from much of the royal court, we immediately convened and attempted to make sense of the terror that we had caused, and how it came about. Believe me, I would like to know what had happened to us for ten years… Ten years we were under the old King's control, and we were unable to fight it even once.' The regret and sincerity of his speech had been picked apart by experts, analyzed and discussed amongst students. It was difficult to determine the validity of his words, as there is no potion or spell that forces the recipient to speak the truth.

Hermione had read of this speech King Lucius had made to the Royal Courts. There were philosophers and scholars Hermione read about on the subject, questioning the validity of King Lucius's statements and whether it could have been possible to be under a spell for so long. Hermione remained suspicious towards King Lucius and the aftermath of the war. The fear and resentment from twenty years ago was potent to this day. Some feared that the Kingdom of Salazar will revert to the horrid, power-hungry terror it had once been.

Here, before her very eyes, walking next to her, was the Crown Prince. She wasn't sure if she wanted to shove him away, or question him about the mysterious happenings with his family. Why, of all places, had she ended up in the Kingdom of Salazar?

Gathering her thoughts, Hermione spoke with the politeness and eloquence she'd garnered over her years. "I am aware about the Kingdom of Salazar and its … history. I was unaware of the names of the royal family. I apologize that I hadn't realized sooner."

"You can know of the gruesome history but not about the _happy bundle of joy_ that came just after the end of the First Spell Caster War?"

"A bit full of ourselves aren't we?" Hermione laughed as she spoke, but instantly pressed her lips together the moment those words escaped her. Draco had a haughty attitude just then, reminding her of the respect royals demanded rather than deserved, and she spoke without thinking.

"A bit rude aren't we?" There was no smile or chuckle in his voice.

"Such as you began, talking as if your birth was such a momentous occasion amongst the horrid emotional and economic struggle that everyone had to trudge through."

"I have never been more insulted by a woman of your status and I do not appreciate it in the slightest." His nose flared, all hints of beauty replaced with disgust.

Hermione bit back her retort; her telling the Crown Prince of any nation that they gardner respect by earning it, and that status does not solely place an individual above or below another in terms of their worth, was not wise in her position. Making an enemy out of Draco Malfoy was not something she ever expected, and if he was the one fated to take Hermione home, she would have to hold her tongue.

Draco smirked, seeing her restrain herself.

Hermione wanted nothing more that to knock those pearly whites from his jaw. But instead, they continued on their path, separated and walking in silence.

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Ending Author's note: What is behind Draco's actions? Does he like Hermione? Leave your predictions or thoughts in the comments. Please favorite or follow for future updates


	5. Chapter 5

Beginning Author's Note: This is an AU. Please follow and review if you'd like to see more ;) It's really encouraging to see. I'm sorry for not posting this sooner, finals got in the way, but I'm back at it and here to stay :D

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Leagues Away- Chapter 5

The castle stood on a smooth slope, evergreen ivy circled around the turrets like a protective net that had scooped the castle up from the ocean. In the absence of torches, the castle walls glistened silver in the moonlight.

The stone pathway up to the castle gates was, thankfully, short. Turning into a mermaid had had some effect on the strength in Hermione's legs. What was probably a mile walk felt akin to five miles. Hermione smiled weakly at the sight of the gatekeeper's station, a stone outpost a couple hundred feet from the front gate. They were almost there.

A hulking figure, nearing the height of the outpost itself, clambered out of the outpost and held up a torch, silhouetting his massive black beard.

"Who goes there? Announce yourselves!" The large man demanded.

"The Crown Prince, and… companion." Draco announced, his teeth clicking together as he spoke.

"Your Highness?" The figure questioned, holding his torch higher to lighten their faces. "Your Highness! Whatever are you doing in such dreadful attire, and walking up to the gates no less. What happened? Were you not in the carriage with Sir Pettegrew earlier this evening?" An endless stream of questions flew from the gatekeeper's list as Hermione and Draco approached.

The gatekeeper flew into a whirlwind of activity; lighting torches and calling up the chain of guards that the Crown Prince and a companion were at the gate and in need of a change of clothes.

The gatekeeper bustled around inside his post, bumping into his table and chair due to the massive build. He nearly knocked over his chair as he pulled out a worn, woolen blanket. He hesitated for a moment before bowing before Draco and Hermione, holding out the cloth.

"Your Highness, if it pleases you, please accept your servant's gift to warm yourself." His nose was to a mere inch from the tops of his boots. It was a wonder the giant man was able to balance himself in that position.

Draco's nose crinkled, but his voice did not reflect the obvious disgust he showed. "Thank you for your… kind offer. However, I can not accept your gift."

The gatekeeper's face feel slightly behind his massive, black beard as he stepped back into his post. "I understand Your Highness. A carriage should be along shortly."

Hermione wanted to stomp on Draco's foot for showing such an expression to a kind man. The guard's nose, scraping the ground, was red along with every part of his face. If she could hold any power, it would be to have Draco treat his followers with an ounce of respect.

"Sir?" Hermione inquired, attempting to keep her voice sweet and level. "May I borrow your blanket until the carriage arrives? I don't wish to catch cold."

"Of course miss." The gatekeeper happily handed over his blanket to Hermione, who wrapped herself up in the warm gift.

"Thank you. This is much better."

The expression on the man's face could only be described as one of pure elation. "I'm glad to be of service to a friend of his Highness."

Draco coughed suddenly, and Hermione's smile twitched, but she tried not to acknowledge the comment on her relationship with Draco. "What is your name?"

"Hagrid, Rubeus Hagrid at your service ma'am." Hagrid bowed to her, grinning ear to ear.

"What a wonderful name. Mine is Hermione Granger."

Hermione glanced up to view Draco's expression, but he wasn't looking at her. His eyes were transfixed on the road just past the gate. Lights were quickly approaching, and the color drained from his face.

"Give him back the blanket. Quickly." Draco hissed, tugging at a corner of the cloth.

"What? Why?" Hermione countered, clutching the blanket tighter.

"Now." Draco demanded, his eyes never leaving the approaching lights.

Hagrid motioned to her to give back the blanket, so Hermione relented and handed it over before the pool of light landed on them. A horses whinnied and clomped on stone as multiple carriages came to a halt.

A single shape stepped out of the carriage and glided towards the gate, walked over the ground as if it was not there. It was darker than the cold night around it, bringing with it a feeling of despair. It lifted a parchment colored hand to lift back its hood, revealing a hook nosed face and cruel eyes that had seen the darkest corners of the world.

The man stood, waiting, as Hagrid attempted to lift the gate with his sweaty hands. Hagrid's pants of exertion were the only sound left in the air, not even the wind blew.

As soon as the gate was open, the man slid aside, gesturing his hand towards the carriage. He was a slender man with greasy black curtains of hair framing his gaunt face.

The greasy-haired man bowed low, his large nose brushing the dirt as he spoke."I am pleased to see you alive and well, Your Highness. We have all been stricken with worry."

"I assure you that I am in excellent health." Draco's shoulders rolled back as he strode forward past the unsettling man. "We have much to discuss."

"Your Highness, I must advise you to let me attend to any wounds."

"Do what you can in the carriage ride, but anything else will have to wait until after I speak to the King and Queen. I assume they're up."

"Yes, they await our return."

Draco's eyes darted back to Hermione. "Spell Caster Snape, this is the woman who saved my life, Lady Hermione. She needs to be attended to at once. I entrust you with her good health."

Snape's nose wrinkled as he bowed to the Crowned Prince. Draco swept past him and the carriage door swung open as he approached. Hermione made to follow, but Snape cut her off with a flutter of his long black cloak.

Her teeth ground together behind her lips.

Hermione glanced back at Hagrid and he inclined his head. "Swim safely, Lady Hermione."

Hermione's fingers grew cold; she knew that it was a common saying for ocean Kingdoms, but that didn't take away from the worry that plagued her. Others must know that Merpeople exists, why wouldn't Hagrid be one of them? What would they do if they found her out?

"Lady Hermione, the King and Queen should not be kept waiting." Snape said, holding out the carriage door.

Hermione smiled and waved goodbye at Hagrid before walking as gracefully as she could towards the carriage. What she was in for you at the castle she couldn't be sure, but she would have to tread lightly.

Hermione could have a harpoon protruding from her, and Snape wouldn't blink twice at her as long as Draco had the sniffles. At the very least, she was given a blanket to wrap herself in. Snape refused to glance Hermione's way as he tended to Draco, rubbing a strange salve into his palm, and whispering about what had transpired in the past few hours.

"Sir Pettigrew came back, frightened and looking as if he would collapse from fright." Snape drawled, moving his fingers down over Draco's wrist. "He was blabbering incoherently about being overtaken and being herded underboard whilst you were chained and- Sir Pettigrew said you had been taken aboard their ship. The King and Queen were in an awful state at this news. You're their only child now Prince Draco. You must be careful with your safety."

Hermione watched Draco's features, transforming from angular and spiteful to soft and heart wrenching anguish. Draco, who had been sitting in silence, hung his head at the mention of his parents. Draco was the only heir, there had been no successful births after him, and he became the only eligible man for the crown.

"The fate of the Kingdom rests on your shoulders."

Draco smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. He withdrew his hand from Snape's grasp. "Thank you for your concern Snape. We'll discuss this more inside."

The carriage came to a halt in front of wide entrance steps and grand stone columns. The driver leapt from his seat and flung open the doors. Draco was the first to step out, the blanket hung from his shoulders like a cape. Snape was next and Hermione followed suit, accepting the hand of assistance from the driver.

Once on solid ground, she was able to drink in her surroundings. She'd read that the most noticeable aspect of the Salazar Kingdom's Castle was the accent of snakes. Right away, she noted that the stone columns lining the front were really coiled snakes and that a snake head adorned the door knocker. Before she could search for any more snakes or appreciate the gardening, the front doors cracked against the gray stone walls from the force of bodies barging through.

"Oh Draco, Draco dear. We thought- we thought the worst my love. Oh how happy I am to see you." A figure collapsed into tears, burying herself into Draco's shoulder.

Draco's expression melted, then softened as he wrapped his arms around her. He rested his cheek atop her head and nestled into her hair."I'm alright mother. I'm alive."

His mother, who Hermione knew to be named, Queen Narcissa, held her son tightly to her as if to assure herself that he was in her arms. Even at this late hour, the Queen had donned an elegant midnight blue ensemble with silver jewels. Its collar framed her features, depicting her resilience and strength. However, in that moment, she was not Queen Narcissa, only a mother.

Tears slid down Narcissa's cheeks as she spoke."So thankful. I didn't want to believe you had- that you were gone."

"I won't be going anywhere. I wouldn't dare leave you and father." Draco's chuckled, but his eyes were downcast towards the stone floor.

"You're so cold, and paler than your Aunt. What happened?" Narcissa pulled away slightly in order to read her son's expression. "All Sir Pettegrew was able to tell us was that the ship had been captured and you'd been taken aboard the invading ship. How did you escape?"

Hermione's eyes snapped to Draco, everyone was bearing down on him, waiting for answers. What would he say? Did he notice a shiny tail before? Or the fact that the chains that weighed him down were nowhere on the shore? Hermione had been nothing close to a believer just a week ago, but now she was a mermaid- a creature she'd thought was only in stories. Did Draco believe in magical creatures? Would he, or anyone else, see through her?

Draco breathed in and spoke clearly, as if he was carefully choosing his words. "I was taken aboard, and tied so that I could not escape. However, when I was not immediately blindfolded, I knew that they had no intentions of letting me live. It was the atmosphere, something telling me that their aim was to kill me. So I jumped from the ship into the ocean. It seemed the best option, to swim. I went unconscious along the way, but … the tides brought me close enough to shore that Lady Hermione Granger," Draco gestured to Hermione, "was able to rescue me from the water."

The Queen, as well as the other figures in the group turned to inspect Hermione who, up until that moment, could have passed for a carved snake statue. In that moment, it was as if Hermione went back in time to when she was eleven: there had been a fancy party in some viscount's estate that her family had been invited to. From the minute -the second- they showed up, it was as a flea infested pack of mutts walked into the party. Animals, who are filthy no matter how much they are groomed or trained. For the entire party, Hermione's parents endured the stares and whispers, which she had seen no reason for them to receive them in the first place. To Hermione, her parents were hardworking, intelligent people, who deserved much more than a upturned nose.`

Heat rose into Hermione's cheeks. Her shoulders wanted to curl inwards, but she pushed them backwards and forced a smile to reach her eyes. She curtsied, inclining her head. "Good evening Your Highness."

"Please, lift your head my dear." Hermione looked up from her curtsy to see the Queen of Salazar with a tear stained face. "There is no need for that- you've saved my precious boy, and I cannot thank you enough for that. We need to get you both inside and treat you right away. We will meet with you tomorrow, but tonight you must rest and regain strength. Draco," she turned her attention back to her son, "Your father is inside readying the staff for your arrival."

Snape motioned with a hand, and a kind faced women were at Hermione's side, offering her arm. The sea of onlookers parted to let the four of them through to the entryway.

Another man and woman joined the first, whisking Hermione away down the right hallway, leaving the sea of people behind her, and following the hallway to the end, where a large set of door swung upon to reveal the infirmary. Four large beds faced the ocean front, and the healers set her down in the nearest bed. The two women flew around her heating water and gathering fresh clothes. The man, who sported an alarming amount of scars for a healer, rummaged in a nearby cabinet, pulling out bottles and mixing liquids together, making a dark brown beverage. He poured hot water in it and brought it over to Hermione on a tray with a side of grapes.

"Go ahead." The man whispered, setting the tray down beside her on a nightstand. "There's hot chocolate mixed with some herbs, and grapes. It'll be a moment for your bath."

"Thank you." Hermione picked up the cup and took a sip, instantly warming her insides and relaxing her muscles. She drank deeply then, draining the cup. "May I have some more?"

"Of course," he responded with a smile, crinkling the scars on his cheeks in the process.

"May I ask your name sir?"

"I'm Remus Lupin. The one with shorter, curly brown hair is Miriam Strout and Dilys Derwent is the one with graying hair- but don't mention that. She's in denial."

"Well what hair color does she think she have?"

"I'm not sure, but I'd hate to ask and encour her wrath. Best to let her believe what she wants."

Hermione chuckled, the cup warm in her hands. They all seemed very warm and loving people, Lupin reminding her very much of her father. He even sported a few gray hairs in his sideburns himself.

"That's good that I got you laughing a bit. Heaven knows that laughter is the best medicine, other than chocolate, which I should get you some to go along with that hot chocolate." Lupin stood up, taking the cup from Hermione's hands.

Miriam Strout, the youngest of the three healers, came over to Hermione, smiling. "Well it seems Remus worked his charms on you now hasn't he? He's always been good with patients as long as I've known him. Well, I've got your bath made, and a warm bath waits for no women, so let's get you in there deary."

"A bath? No, no I'll be perfectly fine without one thank you."

"Don't be silly, there's been some research about cleanliness, and I know for one that the ocean is anything but clean."

"Miriam?" Came Dilys's voice from behind a partition at the end of the ward. "I don't want the water to go cold for her- and I would hate for His Highness's savior to die from a cold or lose a finger."

"But I really don't want a bath. Truly." Hermione insisted.

Miriam's eyebrows shot up, hands landing on her hips. "Lady Hermione-"

"Miriam, darling." Lupin returned, a fresh cup of hot chocolate in his hands. "I'm sure that Hermione would love a bath, but perhaps it's having strangers, in a strange castle, that is frightening her. If we let her be, I'm sure she'll be more comfortable to undress and wash up if she pleases. Does that sound more to your liking Lady Hermione?"

Hermione nodded exuberantly. "Oh yes, that sounds much better. I don't often have so many people waiting on me."

"You deserved to be waited on, and to be left in the comfort of solitude for a moment. We could take a moment and see what has come of the prince, I know Dilys is dying to know more." Lupin set down the hot chocolate on the nightstand and nodded to Hermione. "We'll leave you be, but I'll make sure to leave extra towels and chocolate by the bath. When you're cleaned up, Dilys and Miriam will be waiting just outside."

Lupin then ushered Miriam out of the ward and fetched Dilys from behind the partition. The three of them exited the wards, closing the doors behind them.

Hermione wrapped herself around the cup of hot chocolate she held. She wanted her mother, she wanted her nestling her nose into her hair and hugging her as fiercely as Queen Narcissa did to Draco. She wanted the kind smiles of her father and the safety she felt when he entered a room like with Lupin. She wanted to be with them. She wanted to be human. She wanted home.

Not knowing what else to do, she took another sip of her drink and focused on the taste, how it felt spreading throughout her system.

Freaking out and becoming a hopeless wreck was not an option. Yes, she is in a strange castle shrouded in mystery and death who are the very reasons for the bloody First Spell Caster War. Yes, she was sure that these people didn't want her here for the most part. Yes, she was now a mermaid with powers she didn't understand. But she'd handle it. She can, and will, get through this. She will find answers to her powers and a way home. She will find a way to tell her loved ones that she was okay.

She drained the cup before looking down the way at the partition that blocked the tub from view.

"There's only one thing to do now," She muttered to herself. "And that's to find out if I'll really regain my tail in water."

Hermione peeked behind a room divider, where a bathtub was waiting. Hermione undressed, sliding out of the dress that did not fit her. A slight shiver ran up her spine as she stepped away from the decrepit, sea-crusted dress. Standing before the tub, naked, her heart beat in her throat. Would her tail reform? If it did, could she re-separate herself, or was there a time-stamp on her magic? She hadn't yet tried her fire as a human. There were too many questions; she would have to keep track of them in a journal somehow.

Hermione shook her hands, breathing out as she did. She lifted her leg and slid it into the tub, letting out a gasp; the water seeped into her skin and releasing the tension she'd built up, the way stretching does after being curled up in a chair with a engrossing novel. But she did not change. She sank down into the water and closed her eyes, breathing in the scent of lavender Dilys must have added. The water lapped over her, practically mimicking the push and pull of the tide, ever present and calming. Her toes wiggled underwater, and Hermione couldn't help but laugh nervously. It was all so strange.

"I suppose freshwater doesn't make me transform then. I'll have to check the ocean later, so now can I-" Hermione flared her fingers out, palms up, imagining fire to fly out, but nothing. Her hands receded into the water, dejected. "Guess not."

Hermione's body sank deeper into the tub, enveloping her salted skin. Her mind drifted as she rested, floating back to the Durmstrang Kingdom and Viktor. She envisioned his dark, sultry eyes and his cheeky grin when he'd corner Hermione within her own words. His hands on her back when they danced; Hermione could practically feel her body pressed up against her own. His scent. His poise. His gentle demeanor. Hermione sank entirely below the water's surface, fighting back the longing and the tears her heart wanted to let out. She would find a way back to her home and her loved ones.

'I promise' escaped her lips, floating to the top of the tub as bubbles.

Hermione opened her eyes underwater, feeling serene, noticing a dark shape above her. She silently screamed as a pair of hands shot into the tub and clenched around her neck, pulling her upwards.

Gasping and sputtering, Hermione resurfaced from her tub to face her assailant. It was a woman with pale skin, thick, dark hair and heavily hooded eyes. Her mouth was pulled back wide in a sinister, toothy smile as she chortled.

"I've caught a big one, haven't I?" She spat as she licked her thin, cracked lips. "He'll be so pleased with me. So pleased."

"Bellatrix! Cease this disgraceful action at once." Dilys appeared next to the crazed woman and gripped her wrists, attempting to pry them away from Hermione's neck. "You're scaring the poor girl."

Blurred outlines of people appeared around the tub, hesitant and muscles tensed. Hermione saw the greasy hair of Snape, Miriam's frightened expression as well as the hunched over shape of a mousy looking man. Snape appeared on the other side of Bellatrix, whispering something into her ear.

Bellatrix's grip only intensified; her nails digging into her neck as she did. Spots began to form in Hermione's vision. She'd have to act quickly. Hermione tucked her chin and turned her head away from the woman, loosening the hold. The woman hissed is distaste. Then, Hermione hurriedly gripped the woman's fingers and wrenched them backwards. The hold fell away, and Hermione fell backwards over the side of the tub. Miriam was by her side immediately, covering her with a green robe.

The woman shrieked, her body convulsing and attempting to catapult herself over the overturned tub. Snape and Dilys each took hold of her arms, their feet sliding over the wet floor and they tried to hold the writhing woman.

"He'll take me back. I know he will. I. Just. Need. Her." The woman thrashed violently against their arms, her eyes never leaving Hermione. "I know. I know what you are, and I'll prove it little fish. I will." She laughed, a wild, chaotic laugh that set the room on edge.

Hermione's fingers and toes went ice cold, the feeling traveling up her body into her heart. She knew. How could she?

Miriam crouched down and wrapped her arms around Hermione, pulling Hermione slightly behind her. Snape reached into his cloak and brought out a vile. He unstoppered it and thrust the open end under Bellatrix's nose. She wrestled for a moment then all at once collapsed into Snape's arms.

Snape ran his hand through his hair. "She hasn't had an episode this intense in years. I will work on a new treatment for her tonight. Dilys, take Duchess Bellatrix to her room. Take Miriam with you."

Miriam hesitated a moment before striding over to snape and taking his place next to Bellatrix. Together, her and Dilys were able to take Bellatrix between them and carry her away, disappearing behind the partition.

While all eyes were on those leaving, Hermione shoved her arms through the robe and wrapped it around her tight. Her shoulders slumped forward; her hands quivering from what had transpired.

The small, mousy man stepped closer to her, squatting down beside her. His small watery eyes raked over her appearance while his pointed nose sniffed delicately. "Hm, lavender. A wonderful smell really."

Hermione shifted ever so slightly away, holding the opening to the robe tight to her chest. "I'm sorry, but I don't believe we've met."

"Ah yes," his voice squeaked. "Lady Hermione. My name is Sir Peter, Sir Peter Pettigrew, Master Draco's advisor. My deepest apologies for… Duchess Bellatrix's actions. She hasn't been herself as of late. I wish we had formally met under lighter circumstances."

"I would have wished the same. Thank you for the apology."

Pettigrew grimaced before looking over his shoulder to Snape. "Am I correct in expecting we will continue Draco's account of the night. It was unfortunate that Bellatrix had overheard his story. I am sure it was that that had set her off."

Hermione sat up a little straighter, her eyebrows knitting together. "May I ask what was said?"

Snape narrowed his eyes at Pettigrew as he replied to Hermione. "Draco was recounting how he was saved in the ocean. Duchess Bellatrix has been known to believe in magical creatures although she hasn't been able to prove any of it-"

Peter interjected, his eyes boring into Hermione's. "And she believes that if she finds a mermaid -"

"Peter!" Snape hissed. "Be quiet."

Pettigrew's mouth stitched shut and he was silent.

Snape sneered at the little man. "Never speak out of line about the royal family. You're lucky to even _be_ here you rat." Snape glared for a moment at Hermione before striding away, his cloak fluttering behind him. Pettigrew stood and scuttled after him, leaving Hermione to her own thoughts, which as of late had been filled with more questions than answers.

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Ending Author's note: What'll happen next? Comment below and don't forget to follow/share this story.


	6. Chapter 6

Beginning Author's Note: Hello everyone, thanks for reading so far. Please follow and review if you'd like to see more ;) It's really encouraging to see. I've started summer classes, but don't worry to much about that.

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Leagues Away- Chapter 6

She could feel the nail marks in her neck from where Bellatrix had dug into her. Did she truly know what she was? She seemed out of her mind, but an individual's mental state does not take away from their belief. Bellatrix believed merfolk existed, and if there was one, there was others. Hermione clicked her tongue in disdain. And by the way that woman had spoken, whomever 'He' is, knew about the existence of merfolk also. Where was a library when she needed one?

Hermione absentmindedly made circles on her hand, waiting for her meeting with the King of Salazar, King Lucius. She had been waiting in a small chamber just down the hall from the grand hall, where Salazar throne room was located. The chamber itself was extravagant in its velvet walls and specially crafted oil-lanterns that hung on the walls. There were two large armchairs, which had engulfed Hermione in a massive hug the moment she perched on it, and a small table in-between the chairs. While the chairs were a deep green with silver accents, the table was black with snakes slithering up the legs, resting their heads at the corners of the table. One of the snakes seemed to be peering into the very depth of Hermione's soul, so she blocked it from her view my crossing her legs and adjusting her dress just so.

The dress that had been laid out for her was the most extravagant dress she would probably ever have the fortune to put on her skin. The touch of the soft, pink fabric felt like air upon her skin as it kissed her. Her shoulders were bare, but the sleeves extended down to her wrists. The dress was cinched in at her waist by a corset, accentuating her figure while leaving little room to expand during respiration. She could hardly imagine how women could dress as she was every day. Miriam had even spent an extra ten minutes tightening the corset for Hermione with an additional fifteen pinning up Hermione's hair and coiling certain locks to frame her face. Hermione thought it silly, but Miriam would not let her out of the room otherwise, and in the end Hermione could not argue with the results. She looked breathtaking.

Spending the extra time did not make her late for the King and Queen. In fact, for nearly two hours she had been waiting, but she expected as much. The King and Queen of Salazar held audiences with their subjects and often held guests within their halls. Waiting at least three hours would not be unheard of in court. In the meantime, someone had left a 50 page research paper on types of soil on crop growth in the chamber, so she had read it through twice and made notes in the margins. Hermioen planned on writing the researchers within the day on her questions and idea for further research. But now, she'd quiet exhausted the material before her and longed for something else to read. If she left now and found an attendant, perhaps she could persuade them to bring her something else to read.

Hermione rose from her cushioned armchair and stepped out of her waiting area. The hallway outside was fairly empty with a soldier standing guard at one end of the hall. Down the other end, towards the grand hall, she could see the familiar silhouette of Lupin.

Lupin, Dilys, and Miriam had hurried back in after the encounter with Bellatrix and found Hermione wrapped up in a robe sitting in a pool of the bathwater. Dilys was visibly upset, her lips puckered and her body tensing whenever she looked down at the soaked floor. Miriam was more verbal in her distaste; Hermione had never heard more foul language pass a person's lips, which considering she had lived by the ocean and its docks, meant a lot.

On the other hand, Lupin was much more calm, perhaps due to the fact that he had not been there to witness the insanity. He had helped clean Hermione up and instantly offered her a large slab of chocolate, telling her to sit on the cot and that he'd bring her some blankets and fresh clothes. Hermione remembered the calmness that had washed over her when he was around, a familiar, comforting presence.

Hermione set off down the hallway towards Lupin, and when Hermione was in speaking distance, she called out to him.

At Hermione's voice, Lupin turned around, his scared face breaking into a bright smile. He inclined his head, greeting her. "Hello Lady Hermione, how did you sleep last night?"

"Very well, thank you. The bed was comforting, and Dilys had come around with warm soup and bread for breakfast."

"That's good to hear. I am awfully sorry that you had to experience that assault, and on your first night no less. We try to keep Duchess Bellatrix away from other people."

"And why is that?"

Lupin looked over his shoulder, then over Hermione's an exaggerated frown on his face. He leaned in and whispered, "Well, she's a bit bonkers."

Hermione snorted, which set Lupin off chuckling.

"Really?" Hermione gasped. "She's not mad all the time though, right?"

Lupin coughed, settling himself back to his calm demeanor. "No, not all the time. Sometimes she can be rather pleasant company. She does have a… a rather interesting relationship with the ocean. Any mention of it she starts talking about merfolk and sirens and the end of the world."

"End of the world?" Hermione clutched at the fabric of her dress. "What do you think she means?"

"Ah, yes, well. I wouldn't worry too much about it, but she just believes we've angered the ocean and that her Lord will bring Hell's rain above our heads." Lupin grimaced. "It's a lot to take in, but it's her reality. We have to tread lightly around the subject and _never_ mention it in her presence."

Hermione nodded in agreeance. The Crown Prince almost dying at sea, now a duchess off her rocker about merfolk, which Hermione now knew for a fact existed. When she had a chance, she would have to sneak down to the coast and talk to Harry.

"Now," Lupin remarked, catching Hermione's eye in a half bow. "How may I assist you? Are you waiting for an audience with the royal family?"

"Waiting, actually, but i've finished reading the research paper I found, and I was wondering if you would happen to have any material to read?"

"There's a fantastic library. It's the largest one on the continent, and I can show you if you'd like."

Hermione's chin perked up at the word 'library'. Perhaps she could find something on merfolk folklore and do a bit of light reading. It felt like ages since she'd felt parchment underneath her fingers and drank it in."That sounds wonderful! Where is it?"

A violent shout from inside the grand hall drowned out Lupin's next words. They both listened intently to the shouts from inside. After a moment, there was only silence.

"Who's in there?" Hermione questioned.

"Amos Diggory, Baron of Ottery St Catchpole. I haven't a clue what they're talking about, but I'm sure that the King was the one who summoned the Baron." Lupin responded, his eyebrows puckering together. "I do hope that everything is alright. I know the Baron was very vocal about his stance on King Lucius taking the throne."

"Am I correct to assume that the Baron's stance wasn't in agreeance?"

Lupin nodded, her eyes fixed on the door only a few meters away. "Yes, he tried to gather an opposition, but the more high-ranking families wanted nothing to do with the Baron. I know he's had a few rough years as of late, especially health wise."

"Has he?" Hermione's mind started whirring, trying to remember all she could about the Diggory family and Ottery St Catchpole. "St Catchpole is a mountain area. Their export is rare stone and granite." She mused to herself.

Lupin made a sound of agreeance, but Hermione plowed forward in her spoken thought process.

"Mountain areas are dangerous at times, but St Catchpole is the safest path through the mountains." Hermione muttered, beginning to pace back and forth in front of Lupin. "If the King called for the Baron, it might be on the topic of passage. But something so harmless wouldn't call for a crash and raised voices. It could be about stone or exports, perhaps…"

Lupin caught Hermione's arm on one of her passes. "If you'd like, perhaps you'd like to join the gallery. King Lucius took to inviting spectators after his ascension to the throne; it was meant to give the people reassurances on how he would rule at the time. I could easily take you up."

Hermione's cheeks perked up in a smile. "Really? Lead the way."

Lupin's scared face mimicked Hermione's. He offered his arm, which Hermione gladly took, as he led her past the grand doors and to the next door on the left. There were a set of stairs past the first door that led up into a bright yellow light.

"So," Hermione began, ascending the stairs as a thought popped into her head. "Do you also know a quick way down to the ocean?"

"Yes of course. There's a small path out in the garden that leads to the shore, it's pleasant and quaint. May I ask why?"

Hermione bit her lip, there wasn't a way to say she wanted to know so she could sneak down there and talk to her Merman friend Harry, who was a prince that had disappeared years ago in a freak storm. So she settled for partial truth. "Oh… well I like to take- the ocean has a calming scent and- well I think walks by the ocean are so calming."

Hermione groaned internally; she was bloody awful at lying on the spot. Lupin seemed like a wonderful person, and her stomach churned when lying to him.

Lupin raised an eyebrow but didn't press her further. He took Hermione's hand from his arm and led her forward with it, stepping out onto the balcony a moment before her. The balcony held deep red seating with white hanging flowers from above. There were tables laden with horderves and bottles of red wine being carried by servers dressed entirely in black. The servers were doing their job well as a majority of the occupants were more pink in the face than interested in the proceedings down below.

"I'll be outside in the hallway; the castle attendants are not suppose to be up here unless they're serving wine." Lupin muttered in her ear. "Just approach the railing and you'll have a perfect view. In case of emergencies, there's the exit we came through and another one on the other end, leading down into the grand hall."

Hermione nodded to Lupin, who was already backing away behind a low bunch of hanging flowers and back down the steps. Hermione approached the balcony, seeing a perfect view of the King and Queen in their thrones with Draco sitting by his father's side.

The three members of the family were dressed in golden white robes appearing like marble statues of great beauty and poise. Pettigrew and Snape both stood on the bottom step of the dais, their backs to the thrones. Where Snape had his hands clasped in front of him, staring straight ahead, Pettigrew was wringing his hands and glancing nervously at the Baron.

The room was simplistic but garnished with excellent taste. The hall itself was spacious with it's usage of high, glass stained ceilings and octagonal shape. It used extravagant and gilded accents of green silk curtains and silver snakes slithering up columns. The thrones rested upon a raised dais, behind the three thrones hung the emblem of the Kingdom of Salazar. The emblem was green, outlined in silver; it showcased a silver snake coiled atop a shield with silver wings on either side of the shield.

Hermione wrenched her eyes away from the emblem and instead focused in on the Baron, Amos Diggory, standing below the King with two men flanking his sides. All three men wore black traveling robes, probably having arrived in the early morning hours. The man standing in the center, Hermione assumed, was the Baron of Ottery St Catchpole. He was the was the shortest of the three, with a shiny balding spot on his head, paired with his remaining wavy, graying hair that reached his collarbone. As he stood before the King, his shoulders were curved inwards, a hacking cough overtaking him. One of the men, a younger man with tousled hair and striking looks, stepped towards his father, offering him a handkerchief. The remaining man was a middle aged, bald man who sported a shiny golden hoop in his ear. He joined the two men, offering a bottle filled with a clear, green tinted liquid. The Baron waved away both items, gesturing them to step back. The men reluctantly retreated to their original spots as the Baron had calmed his cough and stood with his arms tightly crossed in front of him.

The Baron's voice rang out enough for Hermione to pick up their words.

"I do not see why I was called here to speak to you. No amount of letters, your personal men, or third-party advisors," he pointed at the bald, earring clad man, "will change my bloody mind."

The King, who had his hands placed lightly on the arms of his chain shifted forward in his seat. He was a beautiful man with long white blonde hair which Hermione imagined could be woven into silk. His features were as angular as his son but with the added effect of the high collar he wore at his neck. The golden white robes he wore gave him an angelic look, as if angels would descend from the glass ceiling and take him away. However, the one aspect of his persona that kept him from that perfect holy persona were the cold grey eyes that were narrowed at the Baron.

"I have sent multiple letters to your abode in hopes you might return them. When I heard nothing in return I requested one of my men to deliver it personally, as my letters could always have been misplaced, I'm sure." Lucius's fingertips pressed together smiling serenely. "Now, when I heard that you blatantly refused to see my men, I thought it best to send an unbiased third party to bring you, in this case Kingsley Shacklebolt. In that way, you would be socially obligated to appear before me, and hear out my request, but so far you have not. I do not appreciate this level of disrespect."

"You send demands, not requests you vile snake. You want free passage through my domain and I will not have poison seep into my stone. The Malfoy family may rule Salazar, but not to me. No sir." The Baron jutted his chin out before him, but his shoulder caved again by a small spattering of coughs.

Kingsley Shacklebolt strode forward, taking a place in line beside the Baron. He set his palm on the Baron's back, instantly calming his coughs. "Amos, you are a friend and ally. As are you, King Lucius. I came here today as a silent third party; however, if I am to retain my title as a neutral Spell Caster, then I must take leave of this meeting. I will see you safely back Amos, but I must say one thing before I leave." He glanced between the Baron and the King. "Listen with an open mind, hear both sides, and a solution will come."

Kingsley bowed to the King, to the Baron, and turned to leave. Not a person shifted nor spoke until the Caster was clear out of the hall.

Queen Narcissa, who had been sitting quietly up until that moment, leaned forward, drawing the eyes of the hall. "Amos, dear, I know you to be reasonable. Perhaps we could list out options of price."

"No," The Baron spat in her direction. "I will not agree with you on any term."

Draco shot up from his seat, nostrils flared and fists balled up. "I will _not tolerate_ such disrespect. We are the royal family and will treat us as such."

"And what? Overthrow you? That'd be treating you like the royal family."

"Is that a threat?"

"It isn't, for now, but who's to know."

The young man flanking the Baron shifted forward to stand to his right, clapping a hand onto the Baron's shoulder. Hermione noted his chiseled features and well built frame, he clearly participated in some sword play throughout his youth.

"Father, perhaps we could revisit this later. Tensions have risen far above what we had expected." The man, the Baron's son, turned to face the dais with a bow. "My deepest apologies for my father."

Lucius motioned for Draco to reclaim his seat as he surveyed the Baron's son. "I commend you, Sir Cedric, for being a proper gentleman and retaining some level of dignity in my court. We will continue this at a later date." King Lucius waved his hand in dismissal of the Baron and his son, effectively ending the conversation.

The Baron and Cedric turned to leave through the front doors, Cedric supporting his father by the elbow. Hermione watched them as they walked.

The Baron must had gone through some ordeal to make his dislike King Lucius to that extent. The offer, from how it sounded, wasn't unreasonable. So there might be another matter entirely.

Hermione glanced back at the dais, where Snape and Pettigrew were trailing behind the two Diggory's and the King was turned to his son, talking to low for Hermione to hear up at the railing. Hermione pouted slightly, it would be helpful to turn into some sort of insect with some use of eavesdropping rather than a half fish, who couldn't use their powers on land.

There was a tap on her shoulder, Hermione turned and was surprised to see Lupin looking flustered. He tugged on her sleeve and towards the door they'd come through. Lupin spoke rapidly as they descended the steps, taking the steps two at a time.

"I saw an attendant going towards the waiting chambers," Lupin huffed, throwing the door open and nearly knocking into Snape and Kingsley Shacklebolt. "Please excuse us."

Snape narrowed his eyes, observing her down his hooked nose. He waved a hand further down the hall, inviting Kingsley to follow, who obliged. The two retreated further down the hall and disappearing behind a door to one of the small chambers.

Hermione let Lupin's words sink in. "So, I'm next?"

Lupin nodded, his breathed haggard as they came to a stop in front of the grand hall doors. "I have a feeling that you'll be talking to the King and Queen next." Lupin glanced over her shoulder giving a quick bow.

Hermione glanced around to see a exceptionally annoyed Pettigrew coming towards them.

"Why was she not in her room?" Pettigrew demanded Lupin as he approached. "It is very inconvenient for me to have to find someone who should've stayed put."

"I am sorry for the trouble." Lupin inclined his head to Pettigrew.

"Oh Sir Pettigrew," Hermione interjected. "That was entirely my fault. I had left the room originally."

Pettigrew sniffed indignantly at her answer, turning back to Lupin. "Since you were out in the hall, did you also happen to see Kingsley? I needed to speak with him."

"No, I do not believe I did."

Hermione looked down and away, not wanting to give Lupin a strange look. Had they not almost knocked Kingsley over just a moment ago? That would be a strange thing to lie about.

"I see you are about as useful as you are handsome." Pettigrew huffed, tossing back his own scraggly hair in comparison.

Hermione bit back a laugh. Pettigrew, in Hermione's honest opinion, had the scrunched, mischievous face of a rat with the body of a pig. Lupin saved himself from laughing by turning it into a fit of coughs.

Pettigrew stepped away from Lupin, not catching the slight. "Well, regardless, it was irresponsible of you to not direct Lady Hermione back. I'll be speaking to your supervisor later Lupin. Now," Pettigrew motioned with his hand towards the grand hall, "follow me Lady Hermione."

Pettigrew puffed out his chest and waddled towards the doors, forcing them open. Hermione glanced at Lupin, who shrugged and mouthed 'don't worry'. He gave her an encouraging nod and rolled back his shoulders, propelling his own chest and pelvis forward, in an attempt to copy Pettigrew.

Hermione's nose whistled from her silent laughter. She mouthed 'thank you' to Lupin before following Pettigrew into the grand hall.

Being on the floor of the grand hall was no comparison, if she tilted her head back she could see the stained glass ceiling that depicted the Kingdom's legacy. In its center, was the face of the original King Salazar Slytherin, a gaunt faced man with jet black hair. Coming off of him in rings were painted faces of past Kings of Salazar. Hermione had read about that fact, that when a new King of Salazar was named, their features were painted up on a ceiling pain.

Hermione only glanced up there a moment, but she had already crossed a majority of the floor. Both the King and Prince were rigid in their seats looking down at her at her approach whereas the Queen was looking at her from down her connected fingertips, an almost thoughtful look.

"Lady Hermione Granger, assistant tutor to the Durmstrang Kingdom." Pettigrew announced before reclaiming his spot besides the dais.

Hermione stood before the royal family and curtsied slow and graceful, holding the front of her pink laced dress between her fingertips. "Good day, Your Royal Highnesses. Thank you for speaking with me today."

"Thank you, Lady Hermione." Lucius replied. "Please rise."

Hermione rose from her curtsy and softly held her hands in front of her, waiting for the King to continue.

"I had heard about last night: how you had come by my son in a time of distress, how you did not know whom he was and risked your health to do so. I thank you for that. He is the only heir, and to loose him would be detrimental to the Kingdom, as well as to myself and my Queen." Lucius inclined his head to Hermione. "Then, there is the matter of last night. The duchess should have never been close to the conversation we held last night. Unfortunately, she overheard, and at an inopportune moment, spurring her into a state. I hope you might be able to forgive her."

"I understand that last night was unexpected, and not intentional on anyone's fault. Thank you." Hermione smiled pleasantly, hoping that his next words were along the lines of a ship back to home at the very least.

Queen Narcissa leaned forward in her seat, drawing Hermione's attention. "Now, I must ask, what did you tutor the royal family of Durmstrang? We are on pleasant terms with them, and I must know how they are doing."

This took Hermione aback, she had not expected such pleasantries. "The family was in good health when I left. The children are learning quickly, and Viktor has improved his discussion and propositions amongst court discussions. I tutor Viktor and the children in history, diplomacy, and other forms of etiquette."

"And you are assistant to your mother, correct?" Narcissa probbed.

"Yes, I learned under her."

The King's eyes crinkled as his lips twitched into a smirk; he shifted in his seat, and mimicked the thoughtful expression of his wife. "I have heard news of Viktor's presence in his father's court. He will make an excellent ruler; his debut ball will be soon, I believe, just a month after Draco's."

Hermione's shoulders contracted for a breath as she tried to beat down the rising anxiety in her chest. The mention of Viktor and his coming debut would be soon, there he was expected to decide on a women he would court and marry. The thought of Viktor, holding another woman as he had held her gave her a sour taste in her mouth. Hermione swallowed the taste, plastering her politest smile when she felt her stomach churn violently at the flavor, and nodded in agreeance with the King.

Draco, throughout the conversation, had remained immobile with his eyes fixed pointedly away from Hermione. He had hardly glanced the way of his savior since she'd entered the room. At the mention of his debut ball, his throat flexed, the muscles just underneath creating shadows against his fair skin. Hermione could hear his breathing through his nostrils from where she stood, so she assumed the King and Queen could as well.

The King's smile went wider, becoming almost painful to watch. When he spoke, the underlying edge was apparent. "We had discussed our next move, and together we had decided that we would like to offer you a position, as Prince Draco's personal tutor. After his debut ball, he will be off with me and his new wife to the neighboring Kingdom of Burrough, where he will show off his prowess to the other rulers of the Kingdoms. A prowess and knowledge I hope you will be able to instill into him."

For the first time since last night, Draco made eye contact with Hermione. His lips were parted in a soft 'o' with his brows crinkling together. His expression turned, his nostrils flared and his mouth clamping shut, as he stared down the line of chairs, his eyes boring into the sides of his parent's heads.

Between Draco's appalling actions thus far, and the King's obvious annoyance, the only sane person on the dais seemed to be Queen Narcissa. She'd been watching the exchanges, a bemused expression painting her face. She sighed and addressed Hermione. "Your thoughts Lady Hermione? Of course you would be paid handsomely for your services, as well as provide any additional learning material you require."

Hermione grimaced, so much for sanity. "Thank you, for the kind offer. I did not expect to receive such an opportunity such as this, but I fear that my family will worry terribly if I was to not return home. So I must-"

"Oh that is no trouble." Queen Narcissa interjected. "You've met our Spell Caster Snape, he- well he doesn't appear to be present, but as a Spell Caster, they are able to relay messages to other Spell Caster's they've met. It's a type of magic they possess, and it makes inter-Kingdom news travel very fast. I'm sure that if you give a message to Snape that he should be able to deliver it to your parents to Durmstrang's Spell Caster Karkaroff. That should suffice."

The Queen sat back in her throne, looking pleased with herself. Hermione kept her mouth shut, her fingers rubbing a pinch of her dress together as she tried to think her way out of the hole she'd found herself in. She did not want to stay one more night here if she could help it, but she could not burn the boat that would take her home either.

"Excellent." Pettigrew chimed in, before Hermione could properly gather her thoughts, clapping his hands together. "Prince Draco shall be so grateful for your help."

"Silence." Draco snapped at the man, his nostrils flaring out. "I do not need her services."

"Yes, you do." King Lucius bit at his son, his voice dropping to a harsh growl. "You are a brilliant young man, but I will not tolerate another embarrassment from my own blood. You will listen to me boy."

"Father-"

"Silence." The heat from the King's voice could forge a blade. Draco leaned back in his chair, silently leering at the back of a terrified Pettigrew's head.

Queen Narcissa clapped her hands together, cutting out the tension in the air. "We are pleased to have you Hermione, your services are readily welcomed."

King Lucius inclined his head to her before rising to his feet, announcing that the audience with the King has concluded. His robes caressed the floor as he past, briefly stopping in front of Draco, whispering sharply so that no one other than Draco could here. Draco's features hardened as he stared pointedly past Lucius.

Hermione watched their exchange, dumbfounded by what had just transpired. They had hardly given her room to decline, or any time at all, to refuse them. Her concerns swept away with a brush of their fingertips. While it was flattering they wanted to hire her, she hardly wanted to stay to become the tutor to a privileged, pompous prince, or be near a crazed, strangling duchess.

For the first time in years, Hermione was left speechless.

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Ending Author's note: Oh what'll happen now? TBD...


	7. Chapter 7

Beginning Author's Note: This is an AU. Please follow and review if you'd like to see more ;) It's really encouraging to see.

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Leagues Away- Chapter 7

The Salazar library had three times the bound knowledge than the Durmstrang Kingdom. The shelves were a rich cedar with silver snakes slithering along the sides of them. Ceiling high windows cast a soft glow onto cushioned armchairs that invited Hermione with open arms. It was the most splendid sight Hermione had ever had the fortune to view.

Hermione longed to grab every book, specifically in mermaid folklore, and stay in this room for the perceivable future. The memory of soft leather and the scent of old pages sent a shiver throughout her body. Sadly, she knew that she could not stay as she was currently being towed around on a castle tour by none other than the pompous prince himself.

He'd originally been instructed by his mother to show her the castle after their meeting, which she was sure neither of them were too fond of. She'd expect Draco to be stone and breeze through the tour faster than a spring rain. But to Hermione's surprise, Draco had taken a fierce pride in showing her every single last portrait or vase that the Salazar Kingdom had a part in from past Kings and Queens.

While fascinating to hear the history firsthand of the rulers of Salazar, Draco proceeded in a way that left Hermione biting her tongue on more than one occasion.

Draco glanced around the library, a smirk growing. "The library is quite fantastic, it's the largest collection of texts in the world."

Hermione grimaced at his inaccuracy. The tour had been litter with embellishments. Previously, he'd mentioned about a previous Queen who had discovered Bartholomeus, a constellation that forms a perfect circle. Draco had boasted in front of the Queen's haughty portrait for nearly eight minutes, boasting about her achievement and her talent for star gazing with only her reading glasses. In reality, a well renowned astronomer, Xenophilius Lovegood, had published his findings a year prior to the Queen's own 'discovery. Lovegood had published his procedure and how he ruled out other known constellations, a systematic approach, and the tools he used. Hermione could not believe that a Queen, using reading glasses no less, could spot the constellation when a well known astrologist used top of the line tools. Regardless of how 'talented' or how much of a 'fanatic' she was. That had been the worst offender to misinformation, but even that had not enticed Hermione to speak. But she was reconsidering that stance of silence now as she could not tell if Draco was doing it knowingly, or if he had been misinformed.

Although the Salazar Kingdom's library was vast, and a prominent part of its infrastructure, it was hardly the largest collection of books. She had read up on many subject, including the record for the largest library. Unbeknownst to Hermione at the time, she had had the pleasure of visiting the largest library when she was young and visiting with Harry at his castle. There, she met Albus Dumbledore, the Sovereign Nation of Godric's Spell Caster. Harry and Hermione had been invited to his private abode on one afternoon for a lesson, and, to her surprise, his entire home was the library. Shelves upon shelves with tiny nooks to study in and trinkets on tables that Dumbledore was writing guides for. His collection was not just spell books, but ranges of all topics imaginable. Hermione's mother had hard time convincing her to leave to return to Durmstrang, and it had been Dumbledore who had promised her that she would be welcome to his collection at any moment.

She never had the opportunity to take him up on that offer though. He'd been the Royal Spell Caster to Harry Potter and his family up until their downfall, and last she had heard, he'd been searching for a place to reside. She never heard what became of him after that.

Hermione sighed, a cold breath filling her lungs. Dumbledore had been extremely kind to her; how could such a well known man disappear?

"Lady Granger?" Hermione jerked, glancing up to meet Draco's accusing stare. "Have you been listening? I had assumed you would be most impressed, even covetous, with our collection."

Hermione grimaced, sighing once more as she decided to give into the tutoring side of her. "My apologies, but I have not been attentive within the last minute. I was remembering a visit to a library of sorts, that makes this library appear as tall as an anthill compared to a snowcapped mountain. The Salazar library is extensive, but it does not crack the top ten."

"Pardon me?" Draco scoffed, glancing at her incredulously. "And who are you to know more about it than I?"

Besides her visit to Dumbledore's beautiful . Hermione, in fact, had read this in no less than three volumes of _Kingdoms: a History_ by Bathilda Bagshot. Bagshot had taken it upon herself, as a historian, to visit and record the past of every known kingdom, something that spanned her life's work. Hermione had heard word that the woman had since retired to spend time with her grandchildren, but the legacy she had left was unparalleled nonetheless. If Draco had actually spent any of his own time reading than secluding himself to the history of his own kingdom; then, perhaps he would have known of Bagshot and her work, or at least have not believed reading glasses help you see a constellation.

Draco was looking down at her, and Hermione could tell it was more than just a physical sense that he did so.

Hermione squared her shoulders, puffing her chest out as she tried to appear as large as possible. "To answer your _question_ , I know from the works of Bathilda Bagshot, whose research into the history of the world brought about the _Kingdoms: a History_ series. She'd covered every kingdom imaginable, and she did mention the sizes of the library. When you read the volumes you can make the mental connection, as she includes the size of the room and the number of titles that they contain."

"Never heard of the woman."

"Never?" Hermione questioned. "Well if you doubt me, we can look up her works right now. We're in the perfect location." She gestured around the room, taking a step further inward to invite him to delve further in.

"Splendid idea, I would love to prove you wrong, but I'm afraid the tour will have to conclude soon. Dinner will be within the hour and I cannot attend without changing." Draco retreated back into the hallway and glanced over his shoulder at her immobile figure. When she stayed stationary, Draco grimaced and beckoned to her. "Come now, I haven't got all day."

Hermione bit the insides of her cheeks, rubbing the cloth of her dress between her fingertips. There, on the shelf to her left were the familiar leather volumes of _Kingdoms: a History._ In pristine condition and taking up three shelves with it's golden title inscribed on the spine. How could a prince be so full of himself and the pride of his kingdom and not even notice the army of texts staring right hat him as he walks into his own library.

Instead of pushing the subject, she gripped her dress, glancing around at the shelves as she exited the room. If she were to bite her tongue for much longer then she might soon chomp it clean off.

Draco walked briskly ahead of her, pointing out more portraits of his family and the lavish gifts that had been sent to them over the years. He raved about a cabinet that supposedly had a twin at another Kingdom, but she hardly wished to listen to much more. The sooner that this tour ended, the sooner she could clear her head of the castle's suppressive air.

Before Narcissa had suggested the tour, she requested for Hermione to write what she had wanted to relate to her parents. Fully aware that her story might be called into question by her parents, or from the King and Queen of Salazar, Hermione had tried to be as vague as possible. Hermione kept it to a bare minimum.

 _Dearest Mother and Father,_

 _I hope you are faring well. I know you must be worried sick, and have had some sleepless nights since my absence. I've somehow landed myself as a guest in the Kingdom of Salazar, at the castle. I can't begin to explain how these events have taken place. Please know that I am alive and well._

 _Since washing up at their door, the King and Queen have asked me to stay on as the private tutor to their son, Prince Draco Malfoy. They are persistent and tenacious on this fact. When this develops further, I will send word._

 _I miss you terribly, and I will find my way back to you as soon as I can. Know that I love you._

 _Love,_

 _Hermione_

Although Hermione did not wish to stay on as the tutor to a cretin who can't appear to bother himself and open a book, at the very least, she needed to hear a reply from her parents. She wanted them to know she was safe and looking for a way home.

Prattling on in a droning tone, Draco was gesturing to family portrait after family portrait of every Salazar King that had even ruled. Hermione had tunned Draco out completely by this point, and instead she enjoyed drinking in the portraits as they passed. She paused long enough in front of them in order to read their names and recall what she had learned about the,. There was one name, King Corvinus, who Hermione had read had been instrumental in adding snake decorations to every corner of the castle.

Hermione chuckled to herself, recalling the numerous number of snakes she'd seen thus far. King Corvinus had one strange obsession with them. His face was gaunt, shadows hollowing the spaces under his eyes, successfully aging him. Gray hair encompassed his face in wisps as the rest of his body was overtaken by emerald green robes with golden accents.

"Is there something you find, humorous?" Draco's icy tone cut through her chuckle.

Hermione looked up, noting the distance that had grown between them. Her eyes flickered from the painting back to Draco. "Pardon me. I recalled that King Corvius," Hermione inclined her head to the man, "Was known for the excessive snake decor."

Draco closed the distance between them, his lips pursed as he admired the portrait of the previous king. "I'm surprised you knew that. He contracted with several carpenters over the years to craft much of the current furniture. For every year he was king he sanctioned another man to build him a masterpiece. So every year he a new crafter was recruited until he had forty men a year delivering their work to the castle."

Hermione chuckled, looking over the portrait of the man once more. If a only a portrait could talk and answer why he had been so obsessed. "What would compel him to hire so many men to build snake themed furniture? Is that not too much?"

Draco shook his head, his lips still pursed. "Father and Mother have their own theories. But I believe that King Corvinus was continuing the legacy of his father, the first king, King Salazar Slytherin. King Slytherin had wished to have the snake as the symbol for his kingdom and had their likeness carved into the exterior castle walls. He thought the snake to be cunning and resourceful, able to survive any situation. King Slytherin wanted his nation to be built with its ambition and resilient nature in mind. Now here his legacy stands, present through centuries of strife."

Hermione gazed at his solemn expression, a softness growing inside her chest. "That certainly is an amazing feet."

"Yes it was. King Slytherin wasn't alive to see the castle to completion, but he had forged and protected this kingdom for his entire life. He kept us from strife and promoted research on several topics, starting the library himself. The castle was completed five months later, and he was buried with honor." Draco inclined his head to King Corvinus. "King Corvinus commissioned a statue to be formed in his father's likeness so as to watch his kingdom grow from the dedication and resourcefulness of the kings that followed. King Corvinus brought around a strong economy and a sense of morality amongst its people. Both him and his father set the precedent to which all future kings look to."

Hermione gazed at the man's face with more curiosity. Paintings were meant to capture their likeness, and she'd seen paintings that perfectly reflected the individual's features, but it was as if their body contained no soul. She'd imagine the portraits to be empty shells, their stories lost within their cracked, painted lips. But King Corvinus began to change, as she watched.

The shadows under his eyes, which she believed to be from age, reminded Hermione more of restless nights, working to increase the greatness of Salazar and the work his father had done before him. The yolk of his responsibilities sank into the shallowness of his cheeks. Somehow, his shoulders squared up to the frame of his portrait, daring any onlooker to doubt the work he had done. If what Draco said, was in fact, true on all accounts, Hermione couldn't deny King Corvinus a nod of recognition. There were always new nuances to learn in history that must be considered at the individual's own discretion.

"Each one has left behind them something invaluable and enduring. It's something to live up to." Draco's body was lax as he gazed into the painting, and in that moment the angles of his cheeks deepened like King Corvinus's. As if Draco was aging right in front of Hermione.

Hermione wasn't sure what compelled her, but her fingers reached out to graze the robes he bore. "You'll join them, and you'll continue that legacy, I'm sure."

Draco's arm flinched, recoiling away. He stared at his arm for a moment, as if expecting a spider or some small creature to be crawling atop his robes. Hermione hurriedly hid her hand behind her back and smiled politely; she hadn't the faintest idea why she'd tried to touch his arm. Most likely out of empathy, it was as if his soul was leaking out, becoming an empty portrait itself.

When Draco offered to show Hermione their last stop, Hermione gladly accepted so as to leave that strange moment behind her. They fell into step and set off down the hall, passing more portraits of kings and queens, but this time, Draco stayed silent.

The sun embraced the earth, giving off the scent of warm earth and fresh grass. All along the path to the ocean, the overhanging forest of trees created a canopy, tinted violet with their leaves. Every way Hermione could turn, there were croppings of blooming flowers of every color imaginable. They waved in the soft breeze, glowing in the spots of sunlight that trickled through the leaves.

Seagulls were cawing overhead, and through breaks in the trees, Hermione could just make out that line where the sky met the ocean. Just behind her, Draco shadowed her movements, letting her explore ahead of him.

The garden was to be their last stop, and Draco had all but remained silent throughout the rest of the tour. He would simply gesture to a room or portrait, stating where the name of said room or person. It wasn't until they came upon a black, marble statue in the middle of the garden that he spoke willingly, and in complete sentences.

"Here you have it. The statue King Corvinus created in his father's likeness. King Salazar Slytherin, in all of his glory." Draco stood in front of him, a stark difference from his pure white robes to the black statue that threw him in the sun's shadow.

Hermione picked up on the wry tone in his voice, as she looked from Draco to the statue. King Slytherin was stone faced, not from being made of sedimentary rock, but because his angular cheekbones and sharp facial features hardened his expression. From his eyebrows to his shoes, every physical attribute was cold and sharp. He was a man who appeared he would sooner kill you than give out second chances.

"It is, indeed, a magnificent statue." Hermione circled him, noting that the carved robes he wore were identical to those Draco and his parent wore in the throne room. "Are the robes symbolic? I can't help but notice they're the same."

"Ah, Yes. King Slytherin ordered a dozen of these made for the royal family, and the Kings and Queens have worn them throughout the ages. It was said that King Slytherin was an early Spell Caster, a mage of the ages my father would say. Tales of his talent and wit are our version of a child's bedtime story. I told you before why I thought the snake was the emblem, well, many commoners believe the reason our emblem is a snake was not just because of it's traits, but because King Slytherin had been saved by one, many years before had the notion to build the castle."

"Saved? How could a snake save his life?" Hermione scoffed and glanced up at the imposing man, she couldn't see an ounce of weakness in its portrayal. "If he was a Spell Caster, with talents as you say, then how could a snake have saved him?"

Draco's shoulder arched backwards, a slight smirk creeping along his cheeks. Hermione mentally recoiled, she had started to dislike that smirk as it always seemed to precede him boasting or otherwise belittling others. "For Spell Casters, the early one used animals as companions or guides for their magic. They had a bond which could not be severed until death, and the snake was the most revered of them all-"

"How do you-" Hermione pressed her lips together; she hadn't meant to suddenly question him. Questioning him on how he knew the snake was one of the highest order, when it could very well be a badger or a phoenix, would not end well. He would become snarly and defensive in a matter of seconds. But it was unwise to believe so wholeheartedly in legends and stories; they only twist with each retelling.

Draco was looking at her, his brows raised and looking expectantly at her. As if only the death of a loved one or his robes catching on fire could have driven her to interrupt him."Yes Lady Granger?"

"Ah…" Hermione looked up at the statue of King Slytherin, searching for some sort of inspiration for a more polite, less offensive to his intellect, question to ask. There was a small snake holding together the robe at the collar, and Hermione blurted out. "How do you choose your animal companion?"

Draco smirked, glancing up and down at her, chortling. "You call yourself a royal tutor? Even a peasant of five knows that the animal chooses the caster. Having an ill read tutor, such as yourself, would be a disgrace to my family. I can't begin to imagine how the Durmstrang Kingdom must be suffering under the care of you and your mother."

Hermione bristled as his voice, her knuckles turning white on her dress. She'd been taken away from the comfortable, _normal_ life with her loving family for what? To have a uneducated prince undermine her family when he hardly knew of her? No, no she did not. "I'm sorry. Have I _offended_ you in some way?"

"I don't buy it." He stated, his laugh dissipating into the air as his voice suddenly dropped low.

"Buy what?" Hermione's voice came out quick and sharper than she meant, but it was becoming increasingly more difficult to fight the urge to scream at him. "A new attitude? You might spend all your fortune."

His eyes were practically slits as he surveyed her, emulating every aspect of his kingdom's emblem as he did so, waiting for her to drop her guard. "That you didn't know who I was the moment you saved me, yet you seem to know an awful lot about the rest of my family. Why would you have even gone to that secluded part of beach other than to be picked up by some royal or castle attendant passing by? Maybe you thought you could come here and steal something of value. Low lifes like you-"

"Now wait a moment." Hermione interjected. "I knew of your name, but never your looks or anything of the like. There's practically nothing of you in history books as you haven't seem to leave your _precious_ castle to explore the _real_ world."

Draco's lips turned into a sneer."And what? Have you read the entire library at Durmstrang? Explored the world like that? With your dirty nose in a book."

"Yes. I. Have. Better than being cooped up in a castle with a library that's collecting dust from neglect."

Draco stepped back, losing his spiteful look for a heartbeat, but it returned full force a moment later. "I wouldn't recommend getting too comfortable here."

Hermione inhaled, slow and deep, collecting herself. She would not let the snide remarks of a spoiled boy reduce her to a screeching duel of insults. "I don't plan on it. Good day."

She calmly stepped around Draco, continuing on her path towards the ocean. There were a few moments where only the brush of Hermione's feet resonated in her ears. But it was not as if she didn't expect Draco to edge a last word in.

"I cannot believe that you would treat a royal in this manner." He called out to her, his voice ringing through the trees. "Your parents must be as unkempt and disrespectful as you are. I'll be sure to tell my parents of your disinterest."

Hermione glanced over her shoulder at him; he was watching her, almost begging to get a rise out of her. He was smirking; his eyes crinkled as if he expected his jab would somehow uplift himself by crushing her beneath his foot. There had never been a man who had tested her patience so much in her life, and the moment she would be rid of him she'd be right glad of it.

Hermione lifted her chin and rolled back her shoulders, speaking in a crisp and clear tone that carried over the empty space. "I'll give you a free lesson, as it seems it was skipped over during your private sessions. Belittling others brings no ounce of self-worth or respect. It has the opposite effect instead: distaste and distance. If something appears wrong, correct them, tell them if they can improve. Never belittle an individual, as there might come a point where people do not have to accept such immature behavior."

Not wanting this dreadful conversation to continue any longer, Hermione strode away through the beautiful canopy of leaves, attempting to give as much space between herself and the prince. She was sure she heard something else being said, but she was creating too much noise to hear- or care.

How could a boy grow up to become so arrogant and spiteful as Draco seemed to be? Viktor had had every chance to become him, but he had always been humble and intuitive; Viktor had wanted to learn and was willing to listen. Draco had done nothing but hold everything below his own, unattainable standard, in contempt. To think that he would be the ruler would be unthinkable.

Finally, Hermione broke through the canopy and faced the ocean once more, breathing in the familiar scent of salt and brine.

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Ending Author's note: What'll happen next? TBD...


	8. Chapter 8

The salty air filled her lungs with ease, as the sun kissed the ocean's horizon. Hermione had removed her shoes and hiked her dress up in order to feel the breeze underneath the heavy fabric. She had found a smooth rock a few feet over the calm water, and decided to take in the ocean view a moment. It was the calmest moment that had graced her in days, and yet she couldn't wholly focus on it.

The image of Draco, standing in his robes, looking like an angel, but with black eyes that blocked off his mind and soul. What had made him so distant and empty? While he appeared proud of his kingdom, yet paranoid at the same time. Almost fearful.

Hermione sighed and glanced down below at the white water, watching a dark bubble rise to the surface. She wondered what would happen if she was this close, would a single drop of seawater turn her back? Bath water hadn't affected her, so being submerged in the ocean would _have_ to affect her. As her mind took over, she watch the bubble start to grow larger until Hermione could tell that it was no ordinary ocean phenomenon. Hermione retreated from the edge until she could see what, or who, it was.

Two heads of hair broke the surface, and Hermione exclaimed in relief. It was Luna and Harry, blinking up at her, squinting as their eyes adjusted to the amount of light. Harry smiled widely at her, giving a small wave while Luna bobbed onto her back and watched the clouds with a dazed expression.

"Harry! Luna!" Hermione leaned over the cliff's edge, careful keep a firm grip and footing. "Oh it's so good to see you both. You'll never believe the past day I've had."

Harry brows contracted, craning his neck back to get a good look at Hermione."Were you treated badly? What happened?"

Hermione launched into the story then, telling them everything from how strange Draco had acted after she saved him, the strange circumstances of how he'd been in the water, that a tub of bathwater didn't give her back her mermaid tail, how Duchess Bellatrix tried to choke her in said tub, Baron Diggory and his dislike of the Salazar Kingdom, her audience with the king and queen and right up to her recent disastrous tour with Draco.

Harry was pure red in the face as his words sputtered out. "That- what a foul- if I ever meet him or that duchess I'll-" Harry made a strangling motion himself. "Awful people, how they could still be in power I haven't a guess. You're not staying though, right? You don't have to be forced into that job and take care of the prat. We can swim you home, and with that power you can basically go back to your own life."

Hermione sighed, feeling uplifted at the sight of her friend's reaction. She had had to hold back every second she was in company of the royals, and it had been draining to say the least. "I want to leave, and the only thing that's stopping me at this point is the knowledge that my family should be hearing from Karkaroff, their Spell Caster, about my safety by the end of the day. I'd hate to disappear and have them know I've disappeared again."

"But if we leave at nightfall we could swim until morning and get there. I promise to get you back, really Hermione."

Hermione let out a small laugh; she'd forgotten how proud and chivalrous Harry had been when they were younger. It always seemed like Harry was getting her into trouble as much as he was getting her out, but he never abandoned her.

"Yes yes Harry, I'm sure you'll do right by your friend." Interjected Luna, who hadn't seemed to have listened to and of the conversation up until that point. "But Hermione can't leave."

Hermione ears perked up at that. "And why is that?"

Luna righted herself, floating upright like Harry. "Because if you leave, Draco will die. Worse, everyone will die."

"How can that be?"

"If you were to disappear tonight, the people who tried to take Draco the other night will try again. Those people are not after him for money, but towards a means to an end. If you're not there, then they will succeed and kill him, which will begin a string of cataclysmic events." Luna trailed off, her eyes glazing over as her hands fiddled in the open air. "I said before that Draco will take you home, and if you are to leave tonight you will never find it."

Hermione's breath had left her body, she was sure she'd either fall from the edge or see her breakfast tumble over it. Looking down at Luna's calm expression, Hermione's arms and legs began to shake.

"Who's after him?" Hermione eventually choked out. "What'll happen if whomever wants him dead, does kill him?"

"I suppose… telling someone their future can alter the outcome. But if I give you enough to go off of, the chance you have at saving him will not be affected." Luna had spoken mostly to herself at that point, idly playing with her hair like she hadn't just dropped a castle on Hermione's head. "I've seen these endings again and again- the sirens, lonesome creatures who are banning together somehow, will be at the reins of those events."

"What?" Hermione and Harry spoke in unison, their voices reaching a higher pitch.

"The Sirens are involved in this?" Harry questioned, his face gone pale and bug eyed.

Luna hesitated, glancing at Harry before turning her face to Hermione, who wore the identical expression to Harry. "They're the reason for the unrest in the ocean, and as much as I hate to admit it, I cannot see the extent of the siren's involvement in this plan, but I can see someone at the helm of the Siren gathering. His face is closed off from me, except for a locket round his neck … It's all somehow connected to the Kingdom of Salazar." Luna fell silent, the ringing of her hair intensifying as her eyes began to glow a faint purple. Hermione didn't have to guess to know that Luna was seeing something. "The ocean will rise until there is no more land to stand on. The humans will perish and the ocean will be ruled by those despicable, two-tailed, despair inducing cod who can hardly tell the difference between the stars. If what I see comes to pass every man, woman, child and mermaid will be hunted down and slaughtered for sport."

Harry moved closer to Luna to put an arm around her shoulder. Luna crumbled into Harry, cry heaving into his shoulder. Hermione moved her lips, wanting to say something, anything to reassure her, but she needed it too. How could she stop something so monumental?

Below, Harry was whispering something to Luna, patting her head as she calmed herself. "Hey Luna, we'll be able to stop it, right? You said Hermione has a chance at it, and if there's anything we can do to help her, we will. I promise you that."

Luna nodded into Harry's shoulder, gasping between breaths. She whispered something that Hermione could not hear, but she suspected she heard the word 'blood' be mentioned. If the oceans did rise, would it turn red?

"Alright, you've seen enough for today, and if you see anything we'll be able to find Hermione, right? So don't try so hard, you frighten easily. Please, go rest."

Luna pulled back from Harry, nodding slightly. She turned her eyes to Hermione, whose knuckles were white on the cliff's edge. Luna's lips twitch upwards, but didn't completely form a smile. "Stay by Draco's side, gain his trust, and maybe then we can change the future." Luna sank down behead the waves, and in a flash of scales, she was gone from sight.

When Luna was entirely out of sight, Harry looked up at Hermione with a wistful look on his face. All Hermione wanted to do was hug Harry, drop down into the water and just hug him.

"All those times we played hero in my castle, I never dreamed it'd actually happen." Harry chuckled to himself. "I could never dream of any of this." Harry gestured down to his tail, which flicked lazily to keep him afloat.

Hermione cracked a smile, remembering the times her mother would be upset when she came back with her dress all dusty or muddy from their adventures. "We'd take wooden swords, and we'd go out with Ron and Ginny to save the townsfolk from dragons, bandits, and rogue Spell Casters. No one could stop us."

"My dad was always great at playing the dragon. He'd let out a roar like he had fire breath, and he'd move so slow that we could climb on top of him. He never fell down though, until the very end when one of us gave a valiant speech about why what he was doing was wrong and ran him through the armpit." Harry mimicked the sword with his had, jabbing it under his armpit and fake dying into the water.

"Remember when Ron and Ginny's mom, Queen Molly, would bring us juice and cookies afterwards, as a reward for our hard work? I think that was Ron's favorite part by far!"

Harry resurfaced, grinning from ear to ear. "I swear, whenever she turned his back he'd take extra cookies and put them in his pocket for later. His pockets were always slightly melted and sticky because of that."

"I can practically hear him get chewed out by Molly because of that. I never thought there was someone who could terrify me as much as my parents." Hermione rolled over onto her back then, her sides hurting from laughing. Her hair hung over the edge as she looked up at the clouds, specks of stars peeking out.

"You can see the stars in the fading light." Harry commented, his voice gently rising from the ocean. "I've watched the stars come out every night. Luna taught me one night how to read the stars, how they could tell us where we were in the world. She said if I knew the stars, I'd never be lost by myself in the world."

"Luna seems like a wonderful girl Harry. I'm glad you had her as a friend all this time." Hermione breathed in a haggard gulp of air. Harry had lost his family, not like she lost her parents, but his were gone forever. His parents, his kingdom, and his future were at the bottom of the ocean. "I'm so sorry Harry. I wish I could turn back time Harry, and not just to a week ago. To the good old days where we were friends that saved kingdoms and ate cookies." Hermione could see King Potter, his black hair whipping around wildly as he tried to fend off four small children with swords. When they'd go trekking through the woods looking for fairies with Dumbledore, trying to lure them out with lemon drops. "I wish I could wake up to that."

There was a long pause while Hermione sniffled before Harry spoke again. "Hermione, look down. I wanna see your face."

Hermione rolled back onto her stomach and poised herself over the edge. Down below, Harry was smiling up at her, his eyes holding a hint of red.

"Hermione, you've always been my level headed friend. If I didn't have you, I'd have gotten into much more trouble. I'm lucky to have you as my friend." Harry's smile faltered a moment, turning into a hard line. "Sirens have taken away something from both of us, our human lives. Somehow they've banned together and done who knows how much damage to our world. If I can, I will do whatever it takes to protect you, Luna, Ron, Ginny, and everyone left on land. I promise you Hermione, everything will be alright, and I will do anything to help you or die trying."

Hermione brushed under her eyes hurriedly, shaking her head. "Harry, you're not _allowed_ to die."

Harry grinned widely up at her, chortling as he did so. "I'll be sure to ask permission."

"Well I'll _never_ give it." She shot back, the laugh breaking the stern tone she'd been going for.

"Fair enough." Harry's expression faltered, regaining a sense of composure. "I don't think that I can come up to the castle with you. Luna needs me right now, but I'll be near the coast to watch over you. So, if you ever need me I'll swim over faster than Ron can eat a tray of sweets."

Hermione snorted, her head rocking backwards. "I could never believe how much his cheeks could hold." Her laughter faded as she looked down at Harry floating below her in the water. "We're not alone Harry; we have each other. I'll be here for you too- whenever you need me."

Harry smiled, nodding. "Sounds good to me. Be careful, and don't let the prat get under your skin. Merlin knows he needs you more than he realises."

With a final wave, Harry dipped down beneath the ocean's tides. Hermione leaned over the cliff, watching the green flash of his scales disappear before standing again. It was time to accept the position of Draco's tutor, whether he liked it or not, because the alternative wasn't something she wanted to happen.

Hermione perched on the edge of a chair, wincing slightly as a maid brushed through her hair in an attempt to style it. Upon re-entering the castle, she'd been picked up by a passing maid and herded into a room the maid said was to be her quarters.

The room she'd been taken to was breathtaking: the bed was large enough for three people and was slightly hidden by a translucent canopy. The bedding was a golden hue supported by a dark wood frame. The furniture complimented the bed with hues of gold, brown and hints of green. There was full length mirror besides the bed, rimmed with golden snakes. But Hermione's favorite part of the room was the view. There was a balcony overlooking the ocean, which Hermione imagined herself dragging a chair onto the balcony in order to read in the morning light.

As Hermione waited for her new attire, she could not imagine a more flattering dress than the rose colored one she wore. When she had asked what was wrong with the one she had been given that morning, she'd received glares and horrified expressions from the maids. She stopped questioning them immediately.

Hermione looked out to the ocean, the sun was dipping low, creating a faint glimmer of red hues. The sight was spectacular, a more vibrant sight than she remembered seeing. She wondered if perhaps her perception of color was enhanced since become a mermaid. She would have to start a journal to record her findings; it could very well help another mermaid were they to live on land or other scholarly Spell Casters.

She had a difficult time ahead of her. Hermione would need to protect Draco, a pompous, arrogant royal who took pride in undermining those around him. Keeping him safe would be a challenge in itself as she might very well end up taking a swing at him.

The door opened, revealing a maid concealed from the massive amount of fabric in her hands. The maid, who had somehow managed to perform something to Hermione's hair, hurried to the maid's side to ease the dress from her hands and display it to Hermione.

It was blood red. The ruffled skirt could hide a full grown man underneath and still have wiggle room. The bodice was a exquisitely fashioned corset with golden accents. on the bodice that tapers into a 'v' form to give the wearer a slimmer waist. Hermione swallowed, gazing at the work of art before her.

"It's beautiful." Hermione said, her breath lighter than a wisp of air.

The maid who had brought in the dress stepped further into the room, holding a pair of high heeled shoes and a golden necklace, whose form she could not detect. The maid smiled knowingly at Hermione as she gestured to the dress. "Let us get you ready for dinner."

"Ah, yes. Thank you for your help." Hermione inclined her head to them.

Hermione caught them giving each other a open-mouthed look when she looked up again. The three maids regained their composure and began laying out the dress and stripping Hermione of the one she was wearing.

Perhaps bowing had been to much. She'd gotten very used to doing her own dressing, or thank others when they had done it for her. She'd often always been the same social standing as them at the time, but this time was different. She'd been viewed as someone above them, and that did not sit well with Hermione.

The maids undressed her in silence, but this silence was tense and strained. Hermione stood in her undergarments when she finally spoke. "Although the King and Queen wish for me to become the royal tutor, I am not high in my position to warrant respect. I would much rather gain your respect through my work, as you are gaining from me at this moment. Please, work and interact as you normally do."

The maid who had brought in the dress cocked her head to the side, her eyes grazing over her. "Most women in your position would be ecstatic to be pampered and looked after as you are now."

"The clothing is wonderful; I must admit. But regardless, being surrounded by women and _not_ having chatter does not seem right either. What are your names?"

"Penelope Clearwater, Lady Granger." Answered the who had brought in her dress. She curtsied low, a strand of wavy blond hair sliding in her face.

The maid, who had attempted to style Hermione's hair, sported a large tipped pink nose and introduced herself as Lisa Turpin. Her voice was a softer pitch, making Hermione unsure if she'd heard the correct name, or if she'd thought of a turnip after looking at her nose.

"It's a pleasure to meet you both, Penelope and Lisa. How did you come to work here then?"

Hermione learned, over the course of the next fifteen minutes dressing her in layer upon layer of her dress, that the girls had each taken their position to care for their families. Penelope was the oldest of the three girls. She often cleaned the library or read from their texts if she had cleaned quickly enough to warrant a peak. Most of her earnings went back home to support her family until her father found her a suitable husband. Penelope grumbled out the husband bit, her disdain evident in her rigid stance.

Lisa was hardly fourteen and had been hired on account of her mother being in the kitchens. Whilst explaining her situation, Lisa looked determinedly anywhere other than Hermione's face.

"Being able to support one's family in their time of need can be draining and weigh heavy on you." Lisa looked up at Hermione, her youthful eyes sunken from lack of sleep. Hermione faltered in her speech, a scratching feeling climbing her throat, threatening to close it. "When you do something for your loved ones, you'll never carry the burden alone. If you ever need something of me, never hesitate to ask."

The corners of Lisa's mouth twitched up as she turned back to her work. "Thank you ma'am."

Penelope lifted her hand and rested it on Lisa's shoulder, redirecting the girl's attention. "Why not take a quick break Lisa. I can finish up the dressing."

Lisa glanced from Penelope to Hermione; she stood still until Hermione nodded her head in agreement. She gathered her skirt and walked to the door, closing it behind her.

Penelope continued to arrange folds in Hermione's dress as they listened to Lisa's footsteps fade away. Penelope held up the final layer, the deep red one, for Hermione to step into.

As Hermione slipped herself into the cloth, she looked back to the door. "Has Lisa been sleeping?"

Penelope shook her head, stepping around to the back of Hermione to lace up the back. "She'd hardly slept this past week, and she's hardly seen her family. She's so young, and having to help her family… it was nice of you to offer your support to her, but I'm not sure what can be done."

"It's understandable." Hermione wheezed, holding onto the banister.

"It's not fair to her either, Lisa is such a sweet girl." Penelope responded, her voice no louder than a whisper. " She could have a bright future, she wants to be a seamstress you know. There won't be a chance for her at this rate; she'll be trapped here."

Hermione nodded, but her thoughts turned to her mother. Hermione smiled down at the carpet, remembering how heated her mother would speak. How her voice would raise an octave and how she'd tighten her face to restrain herself from being denied dozens of times as a tutor. Door after door was slammed in her face, yet she kept trying. She wanted to teach, and she didn't care how many times someone said 'no' to her. If it hadn't been for her mother, blazing that path, Hermione wouldn't have been able to discover her love of learning, what a intelligent conversation felt like, or have met Viktor and seen his growth.

Penelope pulled harder just then, effectively knocking the air out of Hermione's lungs.

"You know," Hermione started, trying to control her breathing. "My mother said that: No matter how many times I was rejected, or hurdles came into her path, it didn't take away from the fact that it was what she loved, and what she wanted to do for the rest of my life. There may still be a way for Lisa to prove it to herself."

"I hope, for her sake." Penelope was quiet a moment before giving Hermione a final tug. "You're all done, Lady Granger. Go ahead and look at yourself in the mirror."

Hermione approached the mirror, her lips parting as she saw the way the cloth draped over her skin. The color brought out the auburn in her brown hair; the golden accents of the corset shone ever brighter. Even the hair Lisa had styled complemented her face.

Penelope appeared behind Hermione in the mirror, bringing the necklace around the front of Hermione in order to clasp it at the back of her neck. "You look exquisite, Lady Granger."

"Thank you, for your help and your honesty." Hermione turned from the mirror to face Penelope.

Penelope smiled, her head dipping low. "That is kind of you. I wish you good health for your time here. Your shoes are beside the bed, enjoy your evening. May I take my leave?"

Hermione nodded and watched as Penelope exited the room, leaving the door ajar behind her as she did so. Hermione looked back at her reflection, seeing a girl draped in exquisite clothing that was surely worth more than she'd make in five years.

With a sigh, Hermione turned her back on the reflection.

" _-side are you on?"_

Muffled words wafted in through the open door.

Hermione's body tightened, whirling around to gaze towards the open door.

" _Unbelievable… years of…"_

The words were to distorted to hear, so Hermione crept closer to the door. As she opened the door a bit farther to peek out, she came face to face with two familiar forms: Baron Diggory and Spell Caster Kingsley. Both tense with the Baron's index finger shoved into Kingsley's chest.

"Ah," the Baron retracted his finger, inching away from Kingsley. He glanced from Kingsley's impassive face to Hermione's startled one. "Uh, pardon me." He hastily inclined his head to Hermione before scurrying away down the hall.

"I hope you'll reconsider Amos." Kingsley called after him, his voice steady and carrying down the hall.

The baron pulling out his handkerchief waving it over his shoulder before using it to cover his mouth. He made no other indication that he'd heard.

Hermione glanced between the Baron's retreating figure and Kingsley, who was regarding her in the same way. She instantly straightened up, her shoulders rolling backwards as she did so. Hermione inched a foot back; her toes digging into the carpeted floor, which reminded her that her flats were back in the room.

"I'm sorry to have interrupted your discussion."

"Think nothing of it." He replied, his voice deep and reassuring. "I do not believe we've meet officially. My name is Kingsley Shacklebolt, a wandering Spell Caster." Kingsley bowed at the waist.

Hermione curtsied in response, her dress blooming into the doorway. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Spell Caster Kingsley. I am Hermione Granger, the soon-to-be tutor of Prince Draco."

When she straightened up, Kingsley was offering his arm for her to take. "May I escort you to dinner, Lady Granger?"

Hermione wiggled her toes into the fibers beneath her feet. "Ah, well not yet. I'm not ready."

Kingsley raised an eyebrow, "Not ready? You look exquisite; what else is to be done?"

Instead of an answer, Hermione lifted her dress, exposing her ten toes and wiggling them.

"Ah," Kingsley's lips twitched up into a smile, "that would be an issue then."

Hermione laughed, retreating back into the room. "I assure you, I am much more put together."

"I am sure of that, of course." Kingsley reassured. "I would expect nothing less from the new royal tutor. Are you nervous?"

Hermione had quite a few things on her 'to do' list to be nervous about. Research Sirens, avoid the crazy duchess, protect Draco from who knows who, and not let Draco's comments crawl under her skin and make _her_ the one who shoves him into the ocean. "Well, nothing I can't handle."

Kingsley chuckled, leaning against the doorframe. "It's not like the end of the world depends on you tutoring the prince."

Hermione forcefully mimicked his laughter, turning away from Kingsley so he wouldn't see the lie on her face. "Thank Merlin for that."

* * *

Ending Author's note: So Hermione's not going anywhere, and for good reason. Does Kingsley know something? Let me know any thoughts or theories you have in the comments.


	9. Chapter 9

Leagues Away Chapter 9

Hermione's fingers played with the smooth fabric of her dress as she found herself perched on the edge of the golden chair in her room. Heat rose in her cheeks as Kingsley Shacklebolt held her ballet flats in his hands. slipping them onto her feet with ease, and fastening the ribbons that held them together. After the scene outside her room, the baron had exited the area faster than the occurrence of his coughing fits.

Hermione glanced at Kingsley while he worked, nibbling her lower lip. The baron had obviously been furious with him. To go up against a Spell Caster of Kingsley's caliber was a reckless act. Hermione had heard tales of Spell Casters who could bring entire armies to their knees. If Kingsley had been an ill-tempered man, the baron might've lost his finger. What had they been discussing?

Kingsley's mouth twitched upwards then, his fingers brushing over Hermione's shoes as he looked up. "Please, ask away. I know you must be curious about our conversation."

Hermione pressed her lips together; she hadn't meant to stare so hard. "I didn't hear the conversation, but Baron Diggory seemed distraught as he left. If I can know, what got him so riled up?"

"Of course you're curious about that. I merely wanted him to consider the king's proposition with a clear mind rather than through a hatful lense. He's refusing to listen to any person who says anything other than 'the king is a lying snake', and I know that the King will not give in unless the baron makes a reasonable reason to refuse." Kingsley sighed, shaking his head as he stood, extending his arm to Hermione. "But nevertheless, we should be on our way. Ready?"

"Ah, yes, thank you for your help. The ribbons would have been difficult by myself." Hermione stood, accepting his arm before exiting the room.

"Of course, it was no trouble." Kingsley led her around a bend, leading her down a familiar hall she'd walked with Draco hours earlier. "So have you come to a decision about the position? I had heard that Queen Narcissa was enamored with you."

Hermione rubbed the soft fabric of her sleeve. Hermione breathed in, attempting to keep her voice even and nonchalant. "The queen was very adamant about my hiring. It was unusual to see such perseverance from royalty. But, after some thought, I decided it would be best to instruct Prince Draco."

Kingsley glanced down at Hermione, catching the slight tremor in her voice. "I see. And may I ask what swayed your thinking in the end?"

The mention of 'the end', while in a light hearted tone, filled Hermione's mind with the image of a doll, floating in the ocean while its owner and family drowned underneath it with the rest of the world. The memory of Luna's words, and her terrified expression of the world being swallowed by the ocean, filled her mind. She needed to find a way to protect Draco and find out who was plotting against him. She had to be careful, around everyone she'd meet.

Her eyes glanced up to Kingsley's strong jawline. Did his appearance to the castle possibly mean something to the attempted capture and murder of the Crown Prince? A coincidence perhaps? He was a wandering Spell Caster, so he had no prior alliances to speak of, but it didn't mean he wasn't loyal to someone.

"Lady Granger, is something the matter?" Kingsley's flickered to hers; his eyebrows knitting together. "Are feeling well?"

"Ah, yes. Yes, thank you for asking. I was, lost in thought." Hermione shook her head, jostling the suspicious thoughts from the forefront of her mind lest Kingsley somehow could read them. "You asked what swayed me, and after seeing the state he was in; a good tutor is only the start of remaking him into a proper prince."

"Yes… Prince Draco could use use some reinventing. Saving is more like it. He might as well be a damsel in distress with how fair his features are."

Hermione clutched Kingsley's arm, holding herself upright as her body shook to contain her glee. "A whiny, arrogant princess who couldn't stand the other girls getting any attention."

"I'd be surprised if he wasn't cursed into a frog because of it."

Hermione's laughter filled the hallway once again, accompanied by Kingsley's own. They must've been an astonishing sight, the girl who'd saved the prince arm in arm with a wandering Spell Caster, as not a single attendant could look away from them as they approached the dining hall entrance way.

Standing in front of the grand archway was Sir Pettigrew, whose features soured Hermione's joy in an instant. His beady eyes raked over Hermione in a way that made her wish she had her powers over fire in human form.

Pettigrew rung his hands together, scuttling forward to cut them off before the archway to the dining hall. "Spell Caster Kingsley, Lady Granger, how good to see you two getting acquainted. Have you seen the Baron? The king expects his company at dinner and neither him, nor his son, have arrived."

Kingsley stared down at the small man, his features impassive. "His exact words to me are not proper to repeat in current company. Seeing as he continues to be absent, perhaps deliver a tray to his room? You cannot force company upon a man who does not wish to have it."

Pettigrew sputtered out an incoherent slew of words, his face and throat turning a slight pink. "He expects- not do- he'll be furious" and other words Hermione could not decipher. The king really must have wanted to have the Baron at dinner to have Pettigrew riled up as he was.

"Pettigrew, I am sure everything will work out. But we must look at the present, and at the present I am famished." Kingsley stepped past Pettigrew, toting Hermione along in his wake. "I will see you inside."

Kingsley swept past the little man, rounding them into the entryway of the dining hall.

On Hermione's tour, Draco had not taken her past the hall, so she had no idea what to expect other than over the top grandeur. Her expectations were fully met.

The dining hall overlooked the ocean, which gave off glorious hues of red in the sun's dying light. The colors accentuated the silver ornaments of the dining hall, giving it a healthy glow. The columns, the five chandeliers that hung over the table, which was dressed in a pure white cloth and laden with silver cutlery, shone as a result.

Surrounding the room were intricate paintings of places around the world, encompassing the wild plain, mountain, to busy streets and scenes from dances. They added the bit of culture to an otherwise gorgeous room.

The royal family, king, queen, duchess and prince, stood as a unit, speaking to messenger, which Hermione recognised by his clothing. They were all dressed in dark robes and dressed, looking like a somber morning scanned the rest of the room, curious as to who was there. Besides a three more men dressed in black, Hermione did not recognize, there was Spell Caster Snape standing just a few steps away.

When the two of them entered the room, Snape looked up before making his way over to them. There was something off putting in the way his hooked nose protruded from his greasy locks, and how the greasy curtains of hair covered the outer half of each eye, giving him a eerie predatory look.

Snape straightened up as he approached, a sneer curling his upper lip. "At last, the final members of our little welcome party, seeing as the Baron refused to answer the door at my call."

"He did not wish to attend." Kingsley replied smoothly.

Snape's nostrils flared out in a huff, opening the greasy black curtains to reveal his sunken eyes. He appeared to have not slept in days. "So it seems." He drawled.

Hermione fidgeted slightly, a question burning her throat to be asked. "Pardon me, Spell Caster Snape, but have you heard back from Spell Caster Karkaroff?"

"Wha- ah yes. I made contact with him whilst you were on your tour."

"Oh wonderful." Hermione breathed. "I'm glad."

"Very interesting man, Karkaroff." Snape drawled. "He told me he had been instructed to look for you by the prince of Durmstrang, Vincent I believe? It seems that you're absence troubled the prince to the point he'd ask his Spell Caster to conduct a locating spell, a highly intricate one I might add. What is so special about you that the prince would ask such a thing to be done?"

Viktor… Hermione's knees turned to that of a newborn calf. They knocked inwards and her whole body heated up. She could suddenly feel the pressure of Viktor's hands on her lower back, pulling her into him. How his face would crinkle as he read, blocking out his surroundings as he read. It'd been so long since she'd last seen him that his handsome features blurred in Hermione's memory.

Aware that Snape was waiting for a response, Hermione attempted to compose herself properly. To her joy, her voice came out in a pleasant and upbeat manner. "Ah, you mean Prince Viktor. He's a caring man who, from the time I've known him, has looked over all of his castle workers with care. He knows their names, of their home lives, so it is not surprising to hear that he worried about my absence."

Snape sniffed delicately, "How… beneath him. Regardless, I will keep you informed."

Snape turned away without much of a proper farewell, and strode off to where the royals were discussing something amongst themselves, the messenger having left moments before.

Hermione pursed her lips, wishing she could set Snape's robes ablaze with her eyes. How unbelievably rude of him to say such things.

"Do not put stock into Snape's words, Lady Granger." Kingsley assured, leading Hermione to the table. "Prince Viktor sounds like a caring man. But I must admit it is rare to know of a prince attuned to his kingdom."

Pride filled Hermione's chest; it had taken her years to understand the real Viktor, but he must have been a empathetic boy from birth. "He's a wonderful man, a thinker and a gentle soul. He'll surely to be the most respected leader of Durmstrang history."

Kingsley chuckled, "That is wonderful to hear. I'm sure you taught him well."

"While I would love to take most of the credit, he was an exceptional man to start with," Hermione countered, "I've learned quite a bit from him as well. When I first asked him how he knew of all the little nuances within the castle, he replied that it had been his nanny who had inspired him. She had taught him that he would meet many people in his life, and that they are each significant and important. To truly grasp it's meaning, Viktor decided to learn the names of everyone who worked in the castle. It took him months, but he could walk about the castle and know each face. My mother mentioned how the atmosphere of the castle changed completely. He inspired me to do the same, and I must say that the smiles I receive from them are worth more than the treasury of Durmstrang. "

"Ah," Kingsley exclaimed, stopping at the edge of the dining table. "He is a truly special man then, to have put such a lasting impression on you. A true tutor learns just as much from their students. If you could rub any of those teachings onto Prince Draco; then, all the better for it."

Hermione grimaced, glancing over to where Draco stood with his Aunt Bellatrix. His posture was that of a drunkard; he face was turned upwards towards the walls of the vicinity. "That will take time, but I'm sure something can be done."

 _Or prevented,_ Hermione thought to herself.

Hermione watched Draco jerk into a proper stance after a harsh word from his father. The collective four of the royal family approach the head of the table, the men holding out the women's chairs. Was it true that protecting a spoiled brat could very well save the future of the world, if not at the very least the kingdom.

Kingsley led Hermione over to the table, stepping forward to pull out a chair for Hermione.

Hermione swept forward and settled herself into the chair Kingsley had pulled out for her.

Hermione's gaze drifted up the table, watching as the king and his family took their seats. KingLucius sat at the head of the table, with the duchess to his left and Draco besides his aunt. Hermione was thoroughly happy the batty woman was so far away from her. The duchess had a sore pinch to her lips and a crease in her brows, almost as if she was having an inner conversation with herself. Hermione's hand unconsciously went to her neck, where the nail marks gave a dull throb. She'd be pleased to never see the woman again after the other night.

Snape sat beside the queen, and three other men sat between Snape and Kingsley. Kingsley took the chair to Hermione's left, making him rub elbows with one of three strange men dressed entirely in black. The next to Hermione were three more seats empty placemats with no more bodies to fill them. Hermione glanced back up the table, noting the absence of Pettigrew.

Hermione smelled them before she saw them, the scent of roasted meat wafted in through the open archway. A line of kitchen workers arrived, carrying platters of food to the table. They converged around the table, setting the platters down and removing their covers.

Before Hermione was a tray of roasted meat, glistening under a sprinkling of green garnish. Further down the table were lavish platters of roasted chicken and a whole roasted pig. Bowls of side dishes littered the middle of the table, whose contents Hermione could not view.

The clinking of silverware and chewing quickly filled the room. Bits of conversation began amongst the black dressed men as Kingsley brought helpings of food to Hermione's plate. He placed a bit of everything on Hermione's plate, a sample of each so that she might request more of her favorites.

Hermione's lips twitched upwards; she hadn't a clue what to make of Kingsley. He was a charming older man, a bit reclusive but open enough to share a laugh with her and offer his advice.

Selecting the proper implements, Hermione set off on tasting the meal before her. On her first bite, the mention of her name further up the table caught her attention.

"Lady Granger," called the queen, "how do you like the room? I thought you might appreciate the view since you must not have such a breathtaking view back home."

Hermione swallowed her food along with the backhanded compliment. "Ah, yes. The view is wonderful, thank you Queen Narcissa."

"Wonderful. I am glad to hear you've settled in." The queen smiled widely down the table at her. "Now, Draco's typical lessons are scheduled mid mornings. I hope you will be competent to fix up a lesson plan to our liking and show it to us on the morrow so you might start the day after next."

Overnight was an early request for a lesson plan. She would need at least a day's time to create a draft for the queen's approval. She was about to tell the queen such when their conversation was interrupted by Draco's drawling voice.

"Mother. Has Lady Granger not told you? She is not accepting the position as my tutor. It was a waste setting up the room. Amongst other gestures."

Hermione colored brightly, heating up under the folds of the intricate dress she wore.

The queen glanced down the table at Hermione, the disappointment and confusion evident around her lips and eyebrows. "Is it true Lady Hermione? I thought we were in agreeance earlier."

Although they had been on the complete _opposite_ page earlier, Hermione found herself more inclined to the queen than the brat at the moment. "Oh on the contrary, I accept the position wholeheartedly. I apologize for any miscommunication that arose." Hermione flashed a reassuring smile down the table.

"Splendid," cooed the queen, "I'll have the previous schedules from Draco's previous tutors sent to your quarters by the end of dinner." The queen snapped her fingers and a server hurried to her, listening to her instructions before hurrying off through the archway.

For a moment while the queen was distracted, Draco's eyes met Hermione's. His lips curled up into a sneer as he mouthed the word 'fake' to her.

Hermione beamed up the table at him. "I look forward to tomorrow, our first official lesson."

"I hope those are more worthwhile than the non official ones." Draco shot back behind the shield of a princely smile.

"Oh, there's something to learn in every lesson, official or not."

"We'll see about that." Draco rolled his eyes back and looked away, striking up a conversation with his father instead. "Father, about the messenger from earlier, what will happen to the next fleet of ships when they disembark? Do you believe they will be safe in the ocean's waters? Or will you heed the warnings the messenger brought."

"While he is a knowledgeable man, I instructed Snape to watch over the turning of the tides. As long as the water remains calm as predicted, we will continue as normal. But it would be in our best interest to close the deal with Baron Diggory sooner rather than later."

Snape inclined his head to the king, "The water has calmed down since the storm last night. It was a tragedy, what happened to the fleet."

Hermione was at the edge of her seat, listening intently to their conversation. Had another ship sunk last night? This morning? If Spell Caster Snape hadn't foreseen the ocean waves; then, it had to be the Sirens once again. And who had sent word of caution for the future? Were they looking towards the kingdom's best interest?

"Hadn't you stated that the passage would be clear for our ships just the day before Snape?" Draco questioned. "How could you not see it?"

Snape sat up straighter in his seat, his hooked nose flared as he contained his voice. "The weather is not as easily predicted as one might believe. Last night was an awful loss. The men here today were the only survivors from the wreckage, so be more respectful."

Hermione observed the black clothed men with new eyes. The men had been silently eating up until that point, not engaging in any conversations other than the small word to one another. Their bodies were hunched over their food, shoving in mouthful after mouthful to chew as if they hadn't seen food in years.

The man on the other side of Snape placed a heavily scarred hand on Snape's shoulder, speaking in a hoarse voice. "Snape, please. The boy is right to ask questions. Everything about last night's storm is unusual. If there is anything me or my men can do, we would be more than happy to answer questions in order to understand the situation ourselves."

"Dolohov," the king spoke, raising his goblet to him, "It saddens me to have lost so many good men. For this to be the situation that brought us all together is a sad day. Thank you for your uplifting words."

"Thank you my king, it is an honor to meet you and dine at your table." Dolohov and his two men inclined his head to the king, giving them a yellow toothed grin.

"Of course. We will get to the bottom of this, and ensure the safety of our people- what a surprise!" Lucius's eyes flickered to the archway, smiling widely. "Here comes the man of the hour himself."

Hermione glanced around, surprised to see Baron Diggory stalking over to the party of dinner guests with gusto. Both his son and Sir Pettigrew trailing behind in his wake. The baron came right up the the end of the table, within arm's length of Hermione.

"Baron Diggory!" King Lucious called out in wonder, spreading his arms out wide. "So glad to have you join us. Please, take a seat. My apologies for having started without you. I was told you chose to eat in your room this evening."

"You- pardon?" The baron's face was ruby red, but the color drained bit by bit as the king spoke. "In my room?"

"Well you're not in your room anymore." Chimed in the duchess, taking a large bite of her meat.

The queen hastily spoke up, filling the beat of silence. "What she meant to say was please sit and enjoy the food with us. Our chefs outdid themselves tonight."

The baron turned to Pettigrew, glaring at the timid man. Pettigrew's pudgy face was gaining the color the baron had lost; his lips spread wide as he pulled out the chair at the head of the table, waving his hand to the baron to sit. The baron glared from the pudgy man to the seat before perching on the cushion's edge. A perplexed Cedric sat beside Hermione with Pettigrew on the other side.

"So glad you were able to join us Baron Diggory, Cedric Diggory." King Lucious boasted. "Pettigrew, pour them wine. Let us toast to the prosperity of the Salazar Kingdom."

Pettigrew clasped the handle of the pitcher and shakily poured three goblets of wine.

The king raised his own goblet, the other 12 members of the table following suit. "To the prosperity of Salazar, and the friendships to be made. For the protection and safety of our fleets and passengers. May the kingdom be bountiful as the health of our family." The king lifted the wine to his lips, as did the other members of the table.

Instead of raising the goblet to his lips, the baron set the goblet down, glaring at the lavish spread before him. Hermione sipped from her own goblet, observing the baron's strange behavior over the rim. He clearly did not wish to be amongst them, but what had brought him here?

"Baron," Kingsley greeted, inclining his head to him. "I am pleased to see you again. Would you like any chicken? Perhaps the soup, it is delicious."

The baron wrinkled his nose in response, but gave no other indication he had heard Kingsley.

Cedric smiled apologetically at Kingsley, his words low enough so that only Hermione and Kingsley could hear. "I apologise for his actions. Father hasn't been in the best mood as of late."

"I observed as much. Has something else happened?"

"Well," Cedric glanced across the table to Pettigrew, serving himself a helping of soup. "Sir Pettigrew came around our quarters stating that the king expected our presence at dinner, and that if we were not to show there would be no food delivered to our quarters."

"Really?" Hermione questioned, looking at Pettigrew, who was digging into a slice of meat and Cedric. "An underhanded tactic from a tactless man. I doubt it was the king who ordered that."

Cedric sighed and shook his head. "It didn't sound right either, but my father believed him regardless and stalked all the way here. I believe that if he was told the king was a monster with five heads he'd be inclined to believe it. I've never seen so much hatred for the man."

"Do you happen to know why he might hate the king so much?"

Cedric shook his head in dismay."I wouldn't know where to start. There never seemed to be any outstanding negligence I was aware of, but over the years my father has only grown to hate the man more."

Hermione sat back in her seat while Kingsley inquired about the baron's health in hushed voices.

"Ah, baron," the king called from the other end of the table, effectively silencing Kingsley and Cedric. "Have you given any more thought to our discussion?"

Baron Diggory's eyes flickered up to the king, a vein growing in his neck. "Thought? I've given it _thought_ and there has been no change in my mind as to your character. Good luck to your accursed ships that sail through devil infested waters."

"How dare you," screeched the hoarse voice of Duchess Bellatrix, her hands slamming down onto the table. Draco jumped back in his seat, away from his aunt from surprise, as did everyone else around the table. "You simple minded man… you dare _disgrace_ him? He is the king, and you dare speak of his with filthy lips."

Bellatrix made to stand, but Draco held onto her wrists, wrestling her back into her seat. He whispered low and fast to her as she struggled against him.

"Yes I dare," the baron spat, leaning forward in his seat to glare down the table at the royal family. "I have no respect for you, any of you. I will take my leave now."

The baron made to stand, but crumpled back into his seat, a hacking cough overtaking him. Cedric leapt to his feet, holding onto his father's shoulders as he helped him to stand. Cedric took his father by the arm, bowing slightly to the table, and exited without another word.

The silence left behind at the table was deafening, not a clink of silverware or a shift in their seat. A small cough from the queen brought each head sharply to her.

The queen smiled lightly, her neck straining against her simpering smile. "I believe dinner should conclude for today. Don't you agree my love?"

The king's lips were pressed in a hard line, but he nodded his agreement. "My friends, my apologies for what has happened here. I will attempt to rectify the disagreement."

There was some shuffling of feet as the other members of the table made to leave. Kingsley assisted Hermione from her chair and escorted her from the room.

The two were silent on the walk back to her quarters. Kingsley hesitated before her door, a pause long enough to alarm Hermione.

"Kingsley? Is something the matter?"

Kingsley's voice came out soft and low, so that if there were to be another person in the vicinity they would hear nary a word. "You need to decline the offer."

Hermione's eyes met Kingsley's own and she made up her mind about him in that instant. His face was impassive, a hardened expression with deep creases around his eyes, mouth and forehead. There was no waver in his voice or pursing of lips, only the slight widening of his eyes as he waited for her reply.

"I can't do that."  
"You-"

"I have to stay here, Kingsley. End of discussion." Hermione stared into Kingsley's eyes until he released her arm and met her gaze with a sigh.

"You are sure about this?"

"Yes," Hermione replied, images of the siren who killed her burning into the back of her eyelids. "There is no doubt in my mind that here is where I need to be."

"It seems that I have lost in more than one battle today." Kingsley bowed to Hermione, short yet low. "I will take my leave. Have a good night's rest Lady Hermione."

Kingsley turned on his heel and left, leaving Hermione outside her bedroom. Hermione knew she would have no sleep tonight. There was much to do for her lesson with the arrogant prat tomorrow, along with dozens of other research to do on the side.

Would it be possible to strike a chord with that thick headed prideful boy? If not, the foreseeable future would be rather tiring on Hermione's conscious.


	10. Chapter 10

Leagues Away Chapter 10

Girls dream of a moment like this: being waited on hand and foot, exquisite cloth draped over you, adorning her neck and ears with precious metals. Then, when you look in the mirror, the girl is transformed as is finally seen as beautiful.

In reality, Hermione had an itchy nose and achy feet.

She'd been standing on a hard stool for over an hour, being measured, fitted into corsets, and being forced into dresses by two white haired men.

Their names were Twilfitt and Talling, identical twins who had apparently been in the kingdom since they apprenticed in the castle at age thirteen. They were a grumpily bunch, who seemed to forget Hermione could hear perfectly well.

Hermione hadn't been forced to stay so still in her life. If she were to move an inch either Twilfitt or Tatting would somehow stick her with a pin or they'd hiss in a low voice that only made Hermione flinch even more. If she wasn't careful she'd be the royal pin cushion instead of the royal tutor by the end of her fitting.

"Don't move," snapped the tailor, Twilfitt, through a mouth of pins, "I have to let out at the waist and you moving every which way is unhelpful."

"Sorry," Hermione muttered.

"Lowly commoner," the other tailor, Tatting, commented aloud, not even trying to hide his discontempt. "How the queen could stomach lending out her clothes- regardless if they're ones she hasn't worn in ages- _what did we say about moving_?"

Hermione had nearly jumped in the air. Was she really wearing the _queen's_ cloths? Her _personal_ clothes? "Is this what you're altering? The queen's clothes?"

"Yes yes, so kind and generous," Twilfitt disregarded Hermione's surprise with a wave of his tape measurer. "But I doubt that's the reason. More likely so that you wouldn't disgrace them in the halls by wearing your personal garments."

"Or at dinner." Tatting chimed in.

"Or when seen by guests."

"Refashioning her garments disgust me: I have to let out so much, but I must admit that the queen is a genius. She knows her dresses are the most exquisite, so that they draw attention away from this peasant's face."

Hermione's lips were pressed into a hard line as the two twats rallied one negative aspect about her after another. There seemed to be no end to the amount of nit picking details they could squeeze from her.

She's had a hope that the knock on her door this morning would be for breakfast, but instead it was a new maid who was instructed to take her to the tailors.

A knock came at the door, announcing the queen and duchess. Twilfitt or Tatting finally stepped away from her with their pins. At least Hermione could breath without fear of being prodded.

The doors swung, revealing the two sisters in similar emerald green dresses with gold accents. The women swept into the room with a certain grace that only came from years of etiquette and dancing lessons. Although they were dressed similarly, their expressions could not have been more different.

Despite the slight pucker to her eyebrows and lips that made it seem she was in a foul mood, the queen had an overall pleasant face. Her hair was combed to a silky softness and a single braid hung from the back of her head.

Behind her, the duchess was practically the twisted clone from the other side of the mirror. Her face was a sickly yellow parchment in coloring, hair matted and greasy. Someone had obviously tried to cover up the skin tone with pink cheeks and pulling back the hair under a headdress, but it only succeeded in creating a demonic doll. Perhaps Hermione's view of the woman had been twisted itself after their first hand-on-throat 'meeting', but it seemed like the woman had a few problems herself. Hermione would just have to keep some distance from the woman.

Narcissa's face broke into a warm smile, the distasteful face she wore melting away like snow. "Why Ms. Granger, you look wonderful."

"Your radiance cannot be compared, my queen." Twilfitt proclaimed, bowing so low his nose scraped the carpet.

"A beauty that is unattainable and revered by lower men." Tatting added, mimicking his brother's form. "We are blessed to be in your presence."

The queen's face was replaced by her expressionless demeanor as she stood over the two men. For a moment, it seemed as though the queen might yell at them or even strike them across the face. Why Hermione thought this, she wasn't sure, but all she knew was that was the poised body of a snake ready to strike.

"Oh stuff it you old meatbag." Came the raspy voice of the dutchess. She was glaring at the two little men with distaste.

The two men looked taken aback by the duchess's words, perhaps from the fact that they had gone about ignoring her up until that point. They glanced up at the queen through their droopy brows, expecting a rebuttal to her sister. Instead, the queen spoke in a flat tone, instructing them to get Hermione out of the dress and leave the room.

"But my queen," opposed Twilfitt, "the measurements!"

"You have taken them on other dresses, yes?" The queen snapped, gesturing at the nearby rack of dresses Hermione had worn. "I'm sure a woman's body does not change that much between dresses."

"Ah, yes, of course my queen." Tatting simpered, bowing low in apology. "We will be gone in a moment."

The twins bowed so low that their noses brushed the ground. They made quick work of undressing Hermione and scampered out of the room once Hermione stood in a more simple gown, one of soft blue layers.

Hermione glanced between the queen and the dutchess. The queen behaved unlike before, something had to have upset her between the twins or from before. And why had Bellatrix ripped into the men? Did they have a history? Perhaps it had nothing to do with the men, and instead had to do with sirens causing problems at sea.

None of these questions or speculations were spoken, nothing was said for the first few moments after the men left them. A stretch of awkward silence that Hermione was not keen on breaking herself.

"Please forgive them." The queen said, the smile she bore hardly reached her eyes. "They are overly complimentary men, nor do I entirely care for that personally."

Hermione nodded, although she didn't quite believe that was the entire story.

"Good, good. Well, I had wanted to come by and give you a list of items that the king and I want the prince to learn under your care. It will have to be a strict regimen, as we are under a bit of a deadline before his debut ball, but we believe each of these items to be vital." The queen stepped up to Hermione and gave her a tightly rolled piece of parchment. "I will be checking on his progress. Do not fail me."

"I will my queen." Hermione curtsied to her.

"I'd say good luck, but even that won't save us." Bellatrix cackled, sending a shiver down Hermione's spine. "The ocean's will soon rise and what a bloody day that will be."

"Bellatrix!" Queen Narcissa snapped at her sister, "Stop spouting such nonsense, or you'll stay in your room for the week."

Bellatrix only grinned and strutted from the room, head thrown back, laughing as she did.

The queen glanced back at Hermione with a grim expression. "My sister has not been well for says, please pardon her actions."

"Of course my queen. May I ask, has she improved over the course of her illness?"

The queen sighed, shaking her head slightly. "No, more of the opposite. She's been like this for years after he suddenly- well, she is receiving the best medical attention we can find. Enough questions for now, the one who should be questioned in my son. The first scheduled lesson is at noon in the library. Do not be late."

Queen Narcissa strode out of the room, and with a click of the door behind her, Hermione felt as if the queen sealed her to a fate of would be working with the prince near everyday whilst she tried to figure out how to save the bastard from the traitor who would kill him. Not to mention if she failed, then the entire world would be submerged in water. Only then would she be able to return to her home.

Good grief.

Hermione was heating up quickly under her thin dress. She was setting up for her lesson with Draco, and the subjects that the king and queen wanted covered was ridiculous at best. There were the normal topics of history, dancing, politics and relations; then, there were topics on geography and animal and plant life. Other topics littered the list, each far reaching and curious that she wasn't sure if she was qualified to teach them based off of her hobbyist reading. It would be difficult to motivate a selfish prick to do half of the assignments she would have to assign, but if Hermione knew one thing, she would have to rely on her own wit to get everything done.

It was nearing twelve, and Hermione had just set up a writing station with parchment and quills for Draco, as well as stacks of books that covered the range of topics the Queen wanted covered.

For the first time together, Hermione wanted to gage what Draco had learned and start him on a mixture of topics he'd find interesting and those she deemed necessary for court etiquette.

As she shifted the pile of medical books, she had somehow knocked over a large volume. The pages of the book fluttered open, rushing to the ground, but never reached it. Hermione was able to catch the book with her leg to the table. She could feel the crease she must've left on it and cringed. The poor book.

Hermione gingerly picked the book back up; The large volume was one she'd slipped from a high shelf, one with the Salazar snake painted on the spine. A range of years were painted atop the reptile, spanning a measure of years before her birth. She started smoothing down the pages, and some words caught her eye.

Hermione sat just out of the sunlight, in a cushioned chair and looked closer at the contexts of the book. Names Draco had mentioned earlier, of past kings and queens, leapt from the pages, but Hermione had been piqued by the name of Duchess Bellatrix. A portrait of her took up a majority of the left side of the page, a small introduction paragraph followed. Her spirits soared, maybe there would be something useful amongst the pages.

 _Bellatrix Black, eldest daughter of Cygnus Black III and Druella Black and elder sister to Andromeda and Narcissa Black. At a young age, she was viewed as highly talented and persuasive amongst the royals. It was said that her fierce devotion to the throne caught the eye of… and she passed away on her twentieth year._

Hermione blinked, glancing between the left page with Bellatrix's image and brief biography, and to the right that spoke of a woman's death. There, in the middle of the book, were loose binding threads that sewed pages into its book. Someone had removed the history of Duchess Bellatrix.

Hermione let the book fall closed in her lap, a hand pinching the bridge of her nose. So nothing about Bellatrix in the history books, and who would be so audacious as to vandalize the recording? Where would she find answers to her strange behavior?

Flipping open the book again, Hermione examined the torn pages. If there was nothing on Bellatrix, perhaps the next page could give her some clues.

Hermione glazed over the small portion of about Bellatrix and noted the new name 'Andromeda'. She'd never read it before, there wasn't a single mention of another Black sister in any other text she'd read.

"But if she died though," Hermione whispered to herself, reading the right page again with fresh eyes, "then maybe this is Andromeda."

Hermione plunged back into the book again, picking apart the lines about Andromeda.

 _It was said that young Andromeda had fallen ill during the Spell Caster War, for months she fought with her family beside her. By the war's end, Andromeda's body was weak and could not last. She passed away a week before her brother in law, Lucious, was named next in line for the throne. She was unable to see her family ascent the throne, but tribute to her kind nature can be found amongst the grounds of the family's estate._

The text went on to describe the short life of Andromeda, but there was nothing of note. She had been a lively girl who spent much of her time outside and in the garden. But Hermione was sure that Andromeda was not the reason Bellatrix went mad. Queen Narcissa had said 'he suddenly' not 'she suddenly'. Hermione didn't even know when the onset of the duchess's insanity began, and no text was going to divulge that to her.

Soft footsteps approaching registered in Hermione's brain. She glanced up to see Snape dragging behind him a disheveled Draco, his shirt half tucked and his hair ruffled and gleaming in the sunlight. He averted his eyes from the sun.

"Spell Caster Snape, Prince Draco good afternoon." Hermione rose from her chair to curtsy to the two men. "May I ask what brings you here Spell Caster?"

Snape sneered down his hooked nose, gripping the upper arm of the prince and pushing his forward. "This _royal_ was in bed, and extremely late for his first lesson. I was told by _Pettigrew_ to bring him here. If you don't mind, I have other business to attend to."

Snape swept from the room, his black cloak flying out behind him.

Hermione smiled politely as Draco tucked in his shirt and combed back his hair.

"Well, I'm glad to see you made it. If you would take a seat we can begin your first lesson. Your mother gave me a list of subjects and I thought we could start with-"

"You seem more of a book worm than a tutor." Draco cut in, brushing off a sleeve.

Snape had obviously not let the boy dress. He was standing before Hermione in nothing but a pair of pants and a white buttoned shirt that was not buttoned all the way up.

"I can easily be both, now if you would like to sit in the shade-"

"Yes, I would love to sit in the shade made by my own bed thank you. I have no desire to be here with you, nor does my mother need to know. So I will bid you a good day, I have other business to attend to."

Draco turned to leave, and Hermione's feet began moving before her brain caught up to her. Hermione stood firmly in front of Draco, her palm out in a sign of 'stop', which he ran into. Her fingertips brushed onto his chest for a moment before Hermione's fingers twitched away.

"I-You cannot leave until the lesson is over. Please, take a seat." Hermione gestured to a chair seated at the table of books with the hand that had just brushed against the prince.

Draco's eyes narrowed, his head turning to the side. "And what, pray tell, would a common girl teach the crown prince of Salazar."

Hermione drew herself up to her full height. Manners, manners is what she would smack into him if she could, and she would try her hardest to do so or else his future bride would have no more hair on her head to pull out from his insufferable attitude. "As a future king you need to learn when to listen and when to lead. You will not always have the answer, and that is why you have a staff and advisors to assist you and make your job easier. My job, is to prepare you for your future in terms of manners, diplomatic matters, and such information that will benefit you. If you would be so kind as to sit back down, then we will be able to start."

Draco stood before Hermione's smile, his face puckered and twisted, as if he was wracking his brain for some sort of retort that could render her floundering and pitiful. He grit his teeth and smiled.

Hermione gestured again and Draco turned back to the table, setting himself back in a comfy chair. He crossed his legs, folded his hands in his lap, and starred pointedly at Hermione.

"I am so glad to see you decide to stay. I thought, to start, I would like to gage your knowledge of the current status of the surrounding kingdoms. So if you could, can you tell me what you know."

Draco blinked at her, his eyebrows raising. "Pardon?"

"Ah, let me rephrase. I want you to-"

"No, no I understand what you are asking. Of course I do, but what baffles me is the notion of their importance, or why that is remotely relevant to my current situation. There's the Kingdom of Whinging, but they might as well be labeled 'magic hating prudes' the way they shun any magical arts and their exports are subpart at best. The oaf of a king is superstitious and against any negotiations he'll sooner let his kingdom wither away than accept help. He'll run the his little bloody thing into the ground, and if he doesn't do it, then his idiot son will take over and finish the job. They drive my father mad with their upturned noses.

"Then there's this place city called Spinner's End, which, I do admit, makes wonderful cloth, but they don't have a proper market for their craft. Rather, it's died down, shame, but the blokes they call founders made awful roads and location choices being up in fields. Most of the people are monetarily trapped and the food they grow is awful- sustainable- but I suspect _our_ people eat better slop. Them and a handful of cities like Spinner's End all belong under this gray area between The Kingdom of Burrough and us, but I hardly think father wishes to take them in. They hardly have anything of use, and the burden of feeding and enforcing laws or taxes would be immense.

"Then Burrough itself is a trap to get into, and the floods they must get from being trapped in by hills- the fools. If we were to wage war they would be decimated. The kingdom is overpopulated and I hardly know how they run the bloody thing- the one instance I was there there were two naked, ginger haired boys running through the streets shrieking like banshees. The level of tact and sophistication of their royals was so utterly uncultured we cut our stay short. Those imbeciles hardly know how to run a kingdom, let alone their own people.

"Our cities are perfect by comparison, each city as a purpose. Fishing, textile, innovations, crops, the works- everyone has their own place. All except for this one miserable city a few miles away- I heard some of our staff lived there before coming to work here." Draco physically shuddered, his shoulders closing in together. "The smell when you walk in is utterly disgusting it makes my skin crawl. No one could get me near that place without proper compensation. Being near the ocean, you'd think they could be clean about it. If any worker brings back that scent I'd order them to bath that stench away- or leave entirely.

"Now, the closest one you could call any proper place of a 'kingdom' is, St. Catchpole, which you know is an isolated hodgepodge of farmers and idle workers who cannot even produce proper crops for their people. So tell me, why must I care about them? Any of them? They're filled with filthy beggars and those who despise work. It would be better to set fire to our fortune than disperse it to any of those ungrateful mongrels. They squander their resources and are too daft to seek anything out or put in their own effort. Having those people in my kingdom is not something I wish to see in the future."

As Draco ranted, his lips curling back at every mention of filth or 'other people', Hermione tried to keep her pleasant demeanor. He was naming practically each city or kingdom within a reasonable travel distance from Salazar. If he dared utter a word of his opinion to anyone outside the kingdom he'd surely start a war of some sort. That can _never_ happen.

At Draco's pause Hermione clasped her hands together, a smile forcing its way across her face. "Well, you sure do know- That's- You have a sense of the surrounding areas, and we're going to start there. I would like you to read-"

"Pardon?"

"Yes, read, the act that not only keeps us from behaving like unintelligent, uncivilized animals but gives us a high purpose and understanding of the world. I want you to read about these places in the perspective of those who founded them, or have traveled there, _and_ to tell me how Salazar could benefit in future relations with them." Draco opened his mouth and Hermione spoke faster, "This would give you an idea of how to continue on and make lasting relationships with other countries. Knowing what others need from you can benefit you further down the years."

The prince frowned, settling back in his chair with puckered lips.

Hermione stood before him, her breathing a bit shallow.

Draco leaned forward in his seat, smiling widely. Hermione's heart soared, had that really gotten through to him.

"No."

Hermione blinked, her smile falturing.

Draco leaned back in his seat, grinned even wider.

"Is there something you find _unnecessary_ about the assignment? It is my job to teach you in the ways of diplomacy amongst other things, and this would teach you how to research and learn of the current states of surrounding nations."

"What _I_ find unnecessary is this entire setup. I still cannot accept you as a tutor. You have no recommendations, and for all I know you never taught the prince of Durmstrang anything. So forgive me if I have reservations about a unknown, unheard of _commoner_ waltzing into my castle acting as if she's seen the world when she's probably only read about it in a book. What good is that to me?"

Hermione breathed deeply, the muscles in her neck tightening. "As we spoke of before, my job is to prepare you for your future. You can easily contact the king and queen of Durmstrang about my usefulness."

"That would hardly prove anything to me."

Hermione tilted her head, surveying the boy. What in the world was he suggesting? More importantly, why was it so hard to convey to him that she needs to be there- more to protect him and the entire kingdom from being submerged underwater and being taken over by sirens, but to teach him some manners nonetheless.

"Would you like me to prove it to you somehow?"

Draco pursed his lips, uncrossing his legs and using that momentum to swing himself onto his feet in front of Hermione. She felt inferior by how she had to crane her neck to look into his eyes. The prince nodded once, and side stepped her.

Hermione whirled around, glaring at the prince as he walked to the nearby table with her pile of books. He casually picked one up, one of the mermaid lore ones, and opened it. "I'll make you a deal."

Her ears perked up at that. "Really now?"

"Yes, you prove to me that you know how to settle a diplomatic dispute and I'll go along with whatever lesson you wish to teach. No questions."

Hermione folded her hands in front of her, her smile fighting her to stay where it was. She could see where this was going. "And did you have anything specific in mind for that?"

He closed the book and glanced up at her. "Oh, I think you know what I'm getting at. My father can't close the deal with Amos, so you do it. Get him to agree with my father."

During his talk, Draco had sauntered closer to Hermione, closer than he'd ever been. Hermione struggled, her body twitching to keep its appearance, to maintain her positive persona. He leaned down to murmur in her ear, "Do we have a deal?"

Against her better judgement, Hermione responded, "Yes."

"Wonderful," Draco said, leaning back and grinning as if he'd just pulled the wool over someone's eyes. He might as well have said 'I expect absolutely nothing from you' too.

He turned and left the room with a whirl of fabric.

Hermione sank down onto the chair he'd occupied moments before. What had she just agreed to? She's, not only, to project him from the end of the world but gain his trust to do so. To do that, she has to prove herself. All this just to go home.

What was she to do?


	11. Chapter 11

Leagues Away Chapter 11

The morning sunlight streamed into Hermione's room, overcoming the megger light from the candles she had lit. Her cheek was pressed against a piece of parchment, one of three, which she had been writing vigorously since the early hours of the day. The medical books were littering the table, pages bookmarked with string and in an order that could only be thought of as organized chaos.

Sunshine tickled Hermione's nose, softly waking her from the slumber she'd found herself in. Thoughts of Draco's challenge had brought out a bought of paramount curiosity on her part, so she quickly found herself pouring over history books and searching for St. Catchpoles' positive aspects. By morning light, she had accomplished marking up three rolls of parchment with notes about agreements and the past relationship Salazar had with St. Catchpole.

Overcome by tiredness, Hermione slept cheek first on a fresh patch of inked writing, effectively smudging it and rendering it illegible. Hermione might have not noticed the writing at all had it not been stuck onto her face as she lifted her head.

Hermione sighed, wincing at the sound of paper separating from skin. Now she would need to rewrite the smudged places. If she could remember what she was pulling her notes from.

She sighed, leaned back in her chair and gazed out of her window. The water glistened against the sun sitting in the sky, a soothing sensation washed over Hermione. What she would give to just swim away from all of this. She yawned, making the dried ink pull at her face.

"I can do this." Hermione murmured to herself. "I-"

A harsh knock came at the door, Hermione could hear a few female voices peeking up shrilly.

"Please, she's asleep sir." Came the familiar of Lisa, it was high and waverly.

"No lady should be woken in such a manner." Penelope echoed.

Hermione leapt from her seat, covering herself up with her thin robe.

"Be reasonable," came the snide voice of the privileged prince, "I would never enter the room of any woman, regardless of standing. She is needed in the grand hall. She should have been awake and ready hours ago."

Hermione just made it behind her partition as the doors swung open. She peeked around to see only Lisa and Penelope had entered. Hermione let out a sigh of relief, clutching her robe against her bare skin, that would have been disastrous.

"Merlin's beard, what have you done to your face?" Penelope declared.

Hermione covered the inked part of her face, stepping out from behind the partition. "It's only ink. A bit of water and I should be fine. What is going on? I heard the prince's voice."

Lisa went off to the side of the room where a water basin and towel set prepped to wash her face. The Penelope ushered Hermione forward to sit on a small stool.

"I'm not sure," replied Penelope, striding over to Hermione's wardrobe, "but we need to be in a hurry. From what I gather you are needed in the grand hall."

"I have no business there, hardly anything to speak of." Hermione mused aloud, but her mind was combing over all the information that she'd been reading.

Lisa returned to her side and began scrubbing the ink from her face while Penelope began laying out Hermione's outfit. It looked to be another corset dress, ivory with lace embellishment.

Hermione sighed, another gorgeous, cumbersome dress. If Penelope heard her, she made no comment or expression. Lisa, on the other hand, sighed as well- although it was very unlike Hermione's.

"Do you like dress?" Hermione asked Lisa.

Lisa's face was close to Hermione's as she scrubbed, so Lisa was unable to hide the dark circles beneath her eyes, or the blush that crept up her cheeks. "It's a beautiful dress, anyone would love to wear it."

"It is beautiful, but I prefer simpler dresses, they're much easier to do labor or other work in."

Lisa blinked at her, startled. "You mean, this isn't something you wear as a royal tutor?"

"Heavens no, I would hardly ever wear those types of dress at home. I don't think my own mother owns one. The queen gave me these dresses since my own luggage was- well- lost on my way here."

"Ah, alright." Lisa continued to clean Hermione's face, "I had assumed, from how well you carried yourself, that you have worn these dresses before."

"Hardly, but if the dresses could be less restricting to wear, then I'm sure many women would be thankful."

"That is a thought," Lisa mused, "I'm sure that could be done."

"Lady Hermione," Penelope called, holding out the dress, "We should hurry. I don't want the prince angry with you."

Hermione was ushered into the new dress and tightened into it rather quickly. Lisa draped her in a faciful necklace and shoes as Penelope finished her face off with a puff of powder.

Hermione coughed, waving away the air away from her. "That was a bit much."

Lisa smiled, standing at attention off to the side as Penelope bustled over to the door to announce to Draco she was ready.

As Penelope threw the doors open, Hermione readied herself for an whomever stood behind those doors. Instead of Draco, the doors opened to reveal Spell Castor Snape.

A cold draft came into the room, or perhaps it was all of the life from the room leaving. Snape's cape billowed out behind him as if he were a bat with wings. He stopped at the midpoint in the room, giving a quick glance around before addressing Hermione.

"You are wanted in the grand hall at once. The prince requested you to be present for the discussion between the baron and the king. If you are ready, I'm here to escort you." Snape bowed forward, slightly but not enough to show any sort of respect.

"Ah, thank you. I truly appreciate the escort. Lead on." Hermione inclined her head to Lisa and Penelope before stepping forward to exit the room.

As the room's door closed behind her, Snape fell into step next to her.

He was a surly man, and seemed every inch a man who would lock himself away to dabble in spells and potions. She could almost see him in a dungeon, but she could always be wrong. Afterall, Karkaroff had an affinity for gardening as a Spell Caster despite his appearance of being a hardened criminal.

Snape led her right to the main hall doors, his hand resting on the handle, but he did not open the doors. Instead, he looked down his long, hooked nose at Hermione.

"This is a rare occurance, to have a _lady_ of your status to enter a meeting such as this. Do not open your mouth under any circumstances. If you put a single toe out of line the king will do worse than banishment. Do you understand the severity of this situation?"

Hermione nodded, "Clearly."

Snape breathed in, to open the door.

Before Snape had a chance to reach the handel, the door went flying out, smacking Snapes hand. Snape cursed, clutching his hand as the baron, red faced and coughing. He turned back to the open door and shouted profanity so vulgar it made Snapes own words seem like warmed honey.

The baron stormed down the hallway, his son, Cedric, following close behind, bowing back into the room as he left.

Hermione gawked after the two men, what had happened in such a short span of time? What had been said? Hermione stepped into the grand hall, Snape behind her, where the queen was seated at her throne looking chalk white. The king had risen from his throne, and his son sat rigid in his.

Suddenly, the king whirled around and stalked off behind the thrones, disappearing through a side door. Hermione stared as the prince shakily rose from his throne and followed his father.

"What happened?" Hermione mused to herself.

"The short version?" Kingsley questioned as he approached the grand hall doors. "The prince is an arrogant, misguided child."

"It was something the prince said?" Hermione inquired, stepping closer to the Spell Caster. "Do you recall what exactly?"

"In so many words, he had said something to the nature that St. Catchpole was a self-promoting waste of resources led by a man who was more likely to drop dead than have St. Catchpole prosper due to his incompetence."

Hermione's hands curled up, her shoulders tensing as her words betrayed her. "What- No, no that's- How did he possibly think that would sway any man to agree? That's madness."

Kingsley shook his head, gripping his fists tight. "There is nothing we can do besides track down the Baron and calm him down."

"Quite right," Snape clipped his words, turning on his hell and sweeping past the two of them. "I expect the king is dealing with the insolent brat right now."

Snape whirled and went down the path he and Hermione had seen the baron and Cedric barreling down. Kingsley went after Snape, leaving Hermione in the doorway.

Hermione glanced back at the door the king and prince had disappeared behind. If what Kingsley said was true, it was an awful thing to say. The prince was well deserving of punishments from that, so then maybe Luna's prophecy will come true regardless of what Hermione does. Was that arrogant boy even worth saving?

But if he isn't, then the world will sink beneath the waves.

Hermione shook her head, storming out of the grand hall, determined to find the baron and set things right. As she re-entered the hall, glancing down the way the men had gone, saw nothing but an open stretch of hallway. Hermione let out a sigh, hitched up her dress, and began her search down the halls, pausing beside doors to listen.

As she made her way down the hall, she heard coughs, muffled and around the corner, but coughs. Hermione began pressing her ear to each door in turn until she came across one where a horrible hacking cough was loudest.

Hermione leaned back from the door, raising her hand, she knocked on the door.

"Hello?" She called out, her hand on the handel as she turned it. "Is the Baron of Ottery St. Catchpole, and his son inside? I would like to speak to you."

Only silence met her for a moment, but then the door slowly opened. Cedric was behind the door, surveying her. His features were pleasant despite the furrowed brow and tense upper body.

"You are Cedric Diggory?"

"Ah, yes, yes I am."

"Hello, my name is Hermione Granger. I am the newly appointed tutor to the Salazar Kingdom, and I wanted to have a moment to speak with you about what transpired."

"I don't think that would be a good idea." Cedric blocked her view into the room with his body. "My father isn't feeling well and-"

"Is that a snake at our door Ced?" came the voice of the baron.

"No, not exactly," Hermione called back, startling Cedric. "I was only appointed yesterday with the promise of safe passage home. I have no loyalty to them but to my own home, the Durmstrang Kingdom."

"What do you mean by that young lady? Cedric, let her in to speak."

Cedric glanced back over his shoulder, but stepped out of the doorway. Inside she saw it was a waiting room similar to the one she had occupied days before. There were two chairs, one either side of a mahogany, snake-legged table. There was a matching table and a couch adjacent to the chairs, as if it was ready for an afternoon tea.

The Baron was collapsed in one of the chairs, leaning heavily against the table beside him. Up close, his skin waxy and his hands were quivering at the rate of a hummingbird's wings. Cedric went to crouch next to him, offering him a handkerchief. She approached the men slowly, careful to make her presence known.

"Young lady," the baron wheezed out, holding the handkerchief to his damp forehead. "Why do you work for the king if you are not loyal to him?"

"Why stay in the kingdom if you are not loyal to him?" Hermione retorted.

The baron grinned. "Fair. I appreciate you coming to remedy the situation, but I have no intention to succumb to the King's demands, or come back after the disgrace his son caused."

"I understand you are upset with the prince and king; but, I have heard word of the kindness you've shown travelers and of your business deals. Under your guidance, St. Catchpole is a well established hub. It is a pleasure to meet such men as yourselves."

The baron he puffed out his chest and clapped Cedric on the back. "Those stories were probably all my Ced, anything recent. He's got quite the eye for business when it comes to stone. He's also got quite a good eye for character; he takes after his old man, and I've learned to trust his gut."

"Father please." Cedric muttered, his cheeks flushing.

"You'll be next baron, and I am looking forward to seeing that day." The Baron smiled widely, but then his face contorted as he began hacking violently once more, teetering backwards in his chair.

Cedric immediately placed a hand on his father's shoulder, his face slackened.

"Father please don't overexert yourself." Cedric pleaded, his hands wrapping the Baron's shaking ones in his own. "I want you to be there on that day and this ordeal is making your condition worse."

The baron sighed, lightly coughing this time. "I-I'm fine Ced. I won't cave into his damned demands. After his son's outburst, he can hardly expect a deal."

"I realise that it does not seem possible, but, please, Baron Diggory, will you explain to me _why_ you refuse?" Hermione pleaded, sitting in the couch across from him and Cedric. "I simply wish to understand your stance."

Hermione's wide, curious eyes met with the Baron's narrowed ones. He looked to his son, who nodded and patted his hand. The Baron sighed heavily, settling into his chair.

"Well alright then, since you seem so eager to know." The Baron cleared his throat and spoke in a low but clear voice. "Besides the treatment I have seen from the royals, much of my reservations come from the rumors about this Kingdom during the Spell Caster War. I assume you know how they had magic we knew not. That power could part oceans and bring Hell's fire from the sky. Whatever the case, it caused mass panic and fear. This Kingdom was a smothering fog, bringing darkness and misery. Mind you, Ottery St. Catchpole was a pivotal spot in this War, we were on the border of the Kingdom and the natural defenses made it a fortress. I opened my arms to those who fought against the Salazar Kingdom, and to this day I have no regrets for my actions. Regardless of the strained relationship we now have, or the lack of funding we've seen in the following years of recovery.

"But not a day goes by that I don't see where wounded men lay bleeding, those who had died in battle, or in defending St. Catchpole. Men and women laid down their lives, and for ten years we fought and held true. Ten years, Lady Hermione." The Baron went quiet, pinching the bridge of his nose as his shoulders shook. "Then, all of a sudden, the battles suddenly stopped. Kingdoms from all over were wondering what in the world had happened to the Kingdom of Salazar and why all of it's men surrendered. Everyone was on edge while the walls of this castle were finally silent.

"Now the King and at the time, King Tom, disappeared almost overnight with the rest of the royal family. Not a single person knew where he went, or why they had been following him. It was as if they were all under a spell, which is where more rumors sprung from. ' _We were bewitched_ ' or _'We don't know what happened, it was a blur'_ well it's all very hard to swallow. No Spell Caster could more such large magic; I've asked Kingsley the same thing and there's no way their Spell Caster could have held such strong magic and spread it that wide. I had never liked the Malfoy family much before, but I disliked them even more when they ascended the throne as the next heirs. They played themselves as 'truthful' and 'a new era' but I never believed them. Their shady ascension is why I will not grant them, or any of their men, passage through Ottery St Catchpole. To many questions have been left unanswered. Do not trust them, Lady Hermione. A snake is a snake."

Hermione stared into the Baron's eyes, noting his shaking shoulders and wrinkled nose of disgust. This man had lived through the Spell Caster War; he had seen more about the matter than any book could tell Hermione. His seemed sincere, but a small part of Hermione wondered the same as many before her had. What had made the men retreat, and where did King Tom disappear to? Was it magic, as many speculated, an inside job? One thing was for sure, Hermione needed a library more than ever.

The baron covered his mouth within the handkerchief as another hacking cough overtook him.

Cedric patted his father's hand reassuringly. "Father, you should-"

"No, no. I'll be fine Ced. What I need is to put an end to this."

"May I ask something?" Hermione inquired, shifting forward in her seat. "Just to clarify, but the King is asking for passage. Has he offered you anything in return?"

The Baron straightened up, nostrils flaring. "I would not accept anything from-"

"Yes," Cedric interjected. "Yes it was for passage. It was to let any royal with the Salazar seal to pass through unquestioned and safely. As for compensation, their offer was monetary, more than we'd seen from the family since the end of the war. I have one of their letters, the most recent one that Spell Caster Kingsley gave to me. Read it if you'd like." Cedric opened his cloak and pulled out two tight rolls of parchment, handing them to Hermione.

"Ced! You will be a great Baron, but you-."

The Baron and Cedric started conversing quick and sharp between themselves. Hermione bit her lips as she blazed through the written document. It was as Cedric had said, monetary compensation, yearly, for safe passage for the royal members of Salazar, but there was a small line following that statement. Hermione read through the line twice, then thrice to drink it in. It was that one line that screamed desperation. The Baron would not give, that was for certain, but the King did certainly did not want a 'no' at any cost. The line read '... safe passage to those with the Salazar seal whilst barring those without.' They wanted that passageway open to them and barred from others; perhaps they wanted to keep certain people out? She could be wrong, but calling the baron to the castle seemed rather important for such a small matter of passage. What was the king planning? An escape? Would there be some unwanted person following?

Hermione glanced up at the two men, realising that they had forgotten her presence. "Baron? Sir Cedric? I have a theory."

"A theory?" The baron questioned, a perplexed expression painted over his red features.

"Yes," Hermione replied. "A theory. The king not only wrote you, but sent a messenger and a third party to bring you to the castle. He must desperately want that passage open to him while closed to others. Whether it is to keep people out or have an escape route of some sort, but it is reminding me of how pivotal St Catchpole was during the war. If you read this line here," Hermione pointed to the line in question, speaking softer so as to not be heard from behind the door, "then you'll see that they want control over the people allowed through, perhaps they want the certainty of your protection should calamity befall the royal family. I think, if you wanted something more from them, you could request an amendment to the deal. If you wanted to hurt the king's pride, that could also be something you might consider. You would also know who they see as friend or foe, and if I were in your position I'd like to know that very much."

The Baron took the document back, reading it more thoroughly. A wide grin spread across his face. "My lady… you are an incredible find. You must make your parents glow with pride." The Baron gripped his son's hand, chuckling under his breath.

Hermione grimaced at the parent comment, thinking of her parents back home, but otherwise thanked the Baron for his compliment. If the Baron, who seemed like a good-natured man, could feel a sense of safety and power over the Kingdom of Salazar, then all the better.

To Hermione's surprise, the Baron stood, a hand on the table to support him. He puffed his chest out and lifted his chin. Then, the Baron caught her eye and gave her a sly wink. "I believe it is high time we finish this ordeal."

Cedric rose to his feet, "Father, are you sure?"

"Never been more sure, I want that man groveling at my feet. If he wants this deal so much then he'll get it at the expense of his pride."

The baron swept from the room, chortiling as he went.

Cedric turned to Hermione, taking her hand in both of his. "Thank you," he whispered, "You have no idea."

He lifted his hands away, his cheeks blushing more vibrant which made Hermione's neck heat up. Cedric bowed quickly as he hurried from the room after his father.

Hermione stood from her seat, staring after the men, taken aback by the baron's sudden jump in his step and Cedric's genuine thank you. Regardless, she had -with surprising ease- managed to bring the baron around to agreeing on a settlement.

Considering what the prince had said to the baron, it was time to track down the arrogant boy. They had spoken _yesterday_ about this very matter of being polite. If he refused to apologize, or at the very least refuse to see his mistakes, then she'd have to see if Luna saw any other way from keeping the world from drowning.

* * *

Hello everyone, I wanted to leave a quick footnote that this is more or less the end of the 'Draco being a HUGE jerk' arch. We'll see more Dramione interactions from here on in.

Please follow, share or leave a positive comment. The small things really mean a lot.


	12. Chapter 12

12- Leagues Away

The familiar scent of parchment had never failed to calm Hermione even in her darkest times. Breathing in, she could almost feel the strength returning to her self-control. She sat, basking in the morning light, lounging on a library's windosill overlooking the ocean.

For over twenty minutes she had been searching the castle for the prince to rip into him herself after his near catastrophic demise of all future relationships with St. Catchpole.

Hermione's body stiffened as she gritted her teeth. Her head lolled back against the wall, her hands clasped together in front of her. She refocused against on the tingle of the sun on her skin and the scent of leather, but the very image of the arrogant fool popped into her head again.

"Ah, merlin's beard! What was that idiot thinking?"

"Are you referring to the prince?"

Hermione's head snapped back up, staring around in horror to find Sir Pettigrew coming out from behind a bookshelf with a few texts in his grubby hands. He stepped closer, his wide watery eyes roving over her.

Hermione wanted to cross her arms in front of her for some measly protection against his gaze, but she forced herself to curtsy instead. "Good morning Sir Pettigrew. I hope the day has been treating you well."

"It has been poor, but perhaps something good will come of it." Sir Pettigrew stepped out from the bookcases, his eyes trained on hers.

"Oh, well I do hope it does." Hermione commented airily, edging around the furniture between them, angling herself towards the exit. "Now if you'll excuse me I do need to return to my quarters."

Hermione gave another curtsy, taking a hurried step towards the exit, but was blocked by Pettigrew. Hermione had hardly noticed how close he had gotten, and so quickly. The smell of wet fur overtook her senses, watering her eyes. Hermione coughed, stumbling a step backwards before righting herself.

"We have a common interest, Lady Hermione, and I would appreciate a bit of cooperation on your part," Pettigrew flourished his hand, directing Hermione to sit down in the chair behind her. "If you would care to sit; I would like a quick word."

"Ah, I- yes, yes of course." Hermione perched herself on the edge of the chair, her back stiff as a board. "How can I help you?"

Pettigrew grinned, showing small, yellowed teeth. He set down the books he'd been carrying, spines away from Hermione's curious eyes. Pettigrew leaned against a table, "You might have noticed that the prince has been, ill-suited when it comes to human decency. I feel partially responsible, as boy has been cooped up in these halls by his family for years. I can hardly remember the last time he travel anywhere. The boy must have a skewed view of the world, and I could have tried to help him on numerous occasions, but his family are more- they see what they wish to see." Pettigrew took a moment, staring down at his hands for a moment and fiddling with a ring he wore, a golden ring with a green stone embedded in the center. "If you could take care of Prince Draco for me, then I would be so grateful. The king would be so thankful if you could take care of the king."

"Of course I will," Hermione shifted in her seat, "it is part of my job to teach him, is it not?"

"Yes," Pettigrew agreed, pushing himself away from the table to lean closer to her, still fiddling with the ring in his hands. "It is your job to take care of him."

A chill blew over Hermione, and she shot up to her feet, startling Pettigrew back into the table. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end and her knees couldn't help but shake.

"I apologise for- I am not feeling well, so I believe it is best for me to return to my quarters." Hermione curtsied to Pettigrew and hurried past the man before he got his witts back.

"Remember, to take care of Prince Draco for me." Pettigrew called after her, "You can find him in his lonely tower."

Hermione glanced back over her shoulder to see Pettigrew beaming back at her.

She had never exited a room so quickly in her life.

Draco's lonely tower didn't get its name by chance. It was isolated from the rest of the castle, towering higher than any other. It was covered in green ivy and was as cold as a dungeon. Staff often gossiped about how the tower must be haunted by the late king who had used it as his personal study. Hardly a sole used it for years until the prince took to using it as his own although no one was certain what was inside.

Hermione had asked Lisa and Penelope, even Lupin as she came across them, but none seemed to know what the prince did while he was up there. Or even where the entrance was to it.

"What do you mean?" Hermione inquired of Lupin when he admitted to not knowing where the entrance was, "Is there no door? Isn't there someone who cleans the tower? How can there be a tower everyone knows of, but cannot get to?"

Lupin sighed, shaking his head. "If only I knew. Much of the castle's secrets were hidden away with the fall of King Tom. I don't think the king or queen know it themselves."

"But Draco does?"

"Why, yes, and he takes great care in keeping it secret." Lupin acknowledged. "He's known for years, since he was old enough to explore the castle."

"Is there _anyone_ who knows about this place?" Hermione pleaded, "Even if it's Snape or _Pettigrew_ and I have to sweet talk it out of them. _Please_."

Hermione's stomach gave a heave; she disliked even the _suggestion_ of talking to those hair-raising men. She needed to find Draco and get him to see her side, and a piece of her mind for that matter. Maybe she could even get him to trust her, so she could protect him.

It took a bit more pleading and promises that she had every good intention. Lupin had looked Hermione over, and, eventually, told her the one person who _might_ know where the entrance was.

Hagrid, the gatekeeper, was the man Lupin believed knew where the entrance was. A vague memory of the giant man flickered in Hermione's memory. He'd been a kind soul, who Draco treated ill. How would Hagrid know how to get to Draco's hideaway.

Nevertheless, Hermione stood inside the gates, her hands on the bars, attempting to pry them up. The bars were to thick and close together to slip through, and she was not strong enough to lift them.

"Bloody hell," Hermione cursed as she stepped back from the bars. "How do you get those ruddy things up?"

"Well," came the soft voice of Hagrid, trudging up to the gate, "A loud call, or ringing the bell usually calls me over miss."

Hagrid smiled down at Hermione, his eyes twinkling and crinkling. He was larger than she remembered, but his kind demeanor seemed set her at ease. He reminded Hermione of a kind, small giant.

"What can I do you for?" Hagrid asked, rocking forward on his toes. "I can't imagine that you wish to walk all the way to town, and certainly not in your pretty ensemble."

"Yes, well not exactly," Hermione glanced down at her skirts, which had dragged a bit in the dirt on her way down the path. "I'm not walking to town, but if you would. I'd like to ask you about the prince's tower, and how I might find the entrance?"

"Ah," Hagrid's rosey cheeks dulled, "Now that I can't help you with miss. I don't know where it is. You'll have to wait until the prince returns. I apologise you came all this way down; Have a pleasant day."

Hagrid bowed, turning back to his outpost.

"No please," Hermione called out, gripping the bars with her hands as she strained to keep Hagrid in her sights. "I can't explain why, not entirely, but I need to talk to the prince; I need to find him to protect him."

"What?" Hagrid grunted, turning back to Hermione. "What'd ya mean?"

"I know this sounds strange, but I need the prince to trust me, to let me be near him so that I can protect him," Hermione gushed, quicker as Hagrid stepped closer. "You would hardly believe the truth, and it's still strange even to me but I have it on good authority that the prince is in danger and might as I wish otherwise I have to be the one to save him."

Hagrid was towering over her, staring her down his squashed nose. He folded his arms in front of him, grunting, "You can't tell me, eh? On whose authority is your information?"

"Well," Hermione should have kept that part out, "She's a seer, someone who could see the future."

"A seer? And does this seer have a name?"

"Luna, her name is Luna."

Hagrid's face smoothed out, "Ah, I see… so you believe a seer miss?"

"Not at first, and I would rather her be wrong. In any event, I want to be prepared for it." Hermione admitted, her hands sliding off the bars to rest in the folds of her dress as her back straightened. "At the very least, I want to help the prince; he needs someone in his corner."

The gatekeeper nodded, "I couldn't agree more."

"So you'll tell me where it is?"

"Ah, well" Hagrid scratched his head, "that's the bit I can only help you part way."

"What do you mean?" Hermione inquired, her head tilting to the side, "Do you not know where the entrance to this tower is?"

"If you put it that way, no," Hagrid grunted, hoisting up gate and motioning her through. "I do know who _can_ lead you there. I could never get there myself cause o' my size, so he should get you where you want to go. And, if he's with you, Draco might be more inclined to listen to you."

"So who is he?" Hermione questioned, ducking under the gate. "Has he seen the inside of the tower?"

"Oh yeah," Hagrid agreed, grinning. "He loved going up with Draco."

"So what does the inside look like? Did the prince forbid your friend from speaking of the place or telling others how to get there?" Hermione was breathing heavily, jogging to keep up with Hagrid's enormous strides, "What is the gentleman's name?"

Hagrid let out a chortle, settling his hand on his door knocker. "I'll let you meet him first."

Before Hermione could question him further, or ask what was so funny, she was knocked over backwards the moment Hagrid opened the door. It was like a cannon had been hurled at her, taking her down into the dirt. Everything happened within a moment and she realised why Hagrid laughed.

On top of her was a dog, a large, black dog with a pink tongue licking away her face of powder. He was massive, heavier than Hermione could lift off of her. The dog sniffed her, cocking his head to the side and staring down at Hermione.

Could dogs taste fish?

"Down Fang!" Hagrid cried, taking Fang by the scruff of the neck like a pup and lifting him off of Hermione. "Now what have we talked about? No tackling people! I am so sorry lady Hermione. I hadn't expected Fang to be so jumpy this time o' day."

With Fang in one hand, he offered the other to Hermione, who gladly took it.

"Well, I have to say," Hermione dusted off her dress, "I never had a warmer, or wetter welcome here."

Hagrid chortled, "Well I'll get yer a towel and a bit o' water. Come inside for a spell and I'll leave Fang out here."

Hermione clambered inside the hut, which instantly made her feel like a child. Everything from the tables to the spoons were larger than she'd ever seen. She felt like she was in a child's doll house.

The abode itself was modest, single room hut. A bed, thin and sunken towards the center from the years it bore, was pushed off to the side of the room. It gave way to the large kitchen table, which came up to a grown man's chest, that sat laden with a late breakfast of porridge. A fire roared in the back of the room, one made of stone with a blackened kettle hung over the flame. Crates lined the wall between the fire and bed; they were made of worn wood hammered together to make small shelves for wooden dishes and cups. A baren rug was draped over the sides, a few leather books sitting atop it. Light poured in from the huts two windows, setting off the soft brown undertones of the room and warming the room.

As the two entered, Hagrid slouching in to avoid the ceiling, the kettle began to whistle. Hermione shuffling off to the side to let Hagrid by as he had to carefully sidewalk between the table and what looked like a bed of rags to get to the kettle.

"Would you like a cup o' tea?" Hagrid asked, his back to her as he worked the kettle from the fire, "You can go ahead and take a seat if you'd like."

"Oh, yes, a cup of tea sounds wonderful." Hermione responded, her eyes drinking in the room as she stepped up to a chair, which was about level with her shoulders. "Have you lived here long?"

"Oh yeah," Hagrid grunted, "Been living here since the young prince was born. Known him all his life."

"And was he always such a pompous brat?" Hermione grumbled to herself more than to Hagrid as she hoisted herself onto the chair. "Goodness this is a high chair."

Hagrid set a cup of tea in front of her, a forlorn look in his eyes. He sat back down to his porridge, which had gone cold since he'd left his hut.

"Draco was a good kid when he was young, never heard a bad word from him either." Hagrid started, gesturing behind Hermione, towards the door.

Hermione glanced back, and was startled to see pictures, dozens of drawings on paper of oceans, trees and plants. The pictures ringed out, the earliest ones were only scribbles, but became more refined as it went. Each drawing had its own space up on the wall; they took up the entire doorway. There was color in the newer ones, intricate scaled dragons and women in elaborate dresses. They were beautifully with each hung up with care. In the middle of the newer drawings was an empty space of wall.

"Bright eyed and thoughtful. Such a wonderful talent too," Hagrid continued, oblivious to Hermione's amazement. "He used to come to my hut, must've slipped through the bars, the tyke. I always took him back up, but sometimes the boy wanted some tea, or to play with Fang. He was a smart boy, and with such a way with words too. He started making me pictures to hang up, so then I'd have a hut full o' art, like the castle."

Hagrid's face turned down towards his cup, his hands wrapping around it. A whimper came from outside, a small scratch at the door, as if Fang knew how Hagrid felt.

"Hagrid?" Hermione whispered, leaning forward over the table to touch the back of his hand. "I-what happened?"

"He came, more and more. He never liked going back up to the palace, and I honestly preferred him here. He was such a bright kid, so happy drawing at the spot where you sit now miss." Hagrid paused, taking in a deep breath. "Then he didn't come back, and one night the king was at my door. He was alone, his hood drawn low over his face. He asked about Draco, our relationship, what I said to him.

"I told his majesty that I let him play with Fang, sit and draw, nothing big. He- his majesty told me Draco was forbidden from visiting. He needed to focus on more important matter- his future. He had no need or time for such 'frivolous' things or of associating with dirty blood. If I went to see Draco, I would be exiled, even killed if the king found out."

"No," Hermione whispered, her hand hovering over her lips.

"It wasn't the worst of it. I didn't care if I was exiled, he started saying killed afterwards. He went as far as saying the boy would only suffer for it, by his hand even. Since that day I kept my word, even when the boy came down I kept my door closed. It was terrible to see him come, and even worse when he stopped altogether. I didn't want to be the reason he was miserable and in pain, so I thought it would be better ya know? I've only heard o' whispers about him since those days." Hagrid lifted his head, his eyes shining and a wavering in his voice. "The next time I talked to the boy was the night he came with you. Hermione, if you can bring some sort of joy or support to him I will do anything I can to help."

"Yes of course. I will do my best to take care of him," Hermione gave Hagrid's rough, calloused hands a light squeeze. "I- How could the king have threaten you and Draco like that?"

Hagrid shook his head sadly, "There's this- I can't." Hagrid shook his head, turning away from Hermione. "I shouldn't have said that. Shouldn't have mentioned it."

"What do you mean?"

"Never you mind. The priority is Draco. I can't let it go on like this. He needs someone by his side in there." Hagrid rose to his feet, jostling the table and tea as he did, and made his way over to his door, flinging it open. "So I'm getting you into that tower, tonight."

* * *

Ending Note: Anyone else think Draco needs a hug? Please don't forget to leave a comment or a like/follow


	13. Chapter 13

Hermione's head was spinning, and it wasn't from the new knowledge Hagrid had given her. Fang was jogging left and right, jerking the leash in Hermione's hands. Hagrid had given her the end of the leash and told to follow, but obviously Hagrid never had to deal with his arm straining from his socket as Fang dragged him around.

Fang was stepping lightly over the bricks, sniffing the walls and even going back down a hallway they'd come from. They must've headed down an older assortment of art, with portraits and statues spaced out along the walls. They were heading further underground from the main floor, further from the direction of the tower.

"Bloody hell, does this dog know where he's going?" Hermione gasped, tripping over her feet to keep up with the dog.

They turned down a similar hallway, lined with portraits and the occasional statue. It was long, cold, and Hermione was sure this was turning into a dead end. They've been heading back and forward for over an hour at least and Hermione was starting to lose the feeling in her toes.

"Fang." Hermione tugged on the leash, but Fang did not let up on it's trot. "Fang enough!"

Fang turned back, puffing air with his tongue lolling out. His rump flopped onto the floor as he stared up at Hermione.

"Devilish dog," Hermione breathed, leaning against a wall and sliding down to crouch against the wall. "You are about as much help as a rock."

Fang whimpered, nudging his cold nose into Hermione's shoulder. Hermione sighed, petting behind Fang's ear. "I'm sorry Fang, you didn't deserve that."

Fang whimpered again, pressing harder into her shoulder, almost pushing her to the ground.

"Woah there," Hermione protested, holding onto Fang's rope collar and steadying herself. "What's gotten into you?"

Fang nudged her again, successfully toppling Hermione on her side and knocking her shoulder into hard stone. The stone gave way with a low grind as Fang let out a loud bark.

"Now that-" Hermione struggled to her feet "-was absolutely-" she readied a finger for scolding "-and completely-" she felt a light breeze on her back, which made her glance behind her at a female statue, moved slightly, to reveal a few inches of a passageway- "necessary." The last words died on her lips as she crouched down next to the stone statue.

The statue was one of a three-eyed woman, draped in cloth and with abnormally large hips. Seeing as the hips hid a passageway, it made sense. Hermione ran her fingers along the entrance, glancing up and down the hall for another person before pushing on the woman's hips.

The statue gave, sliding farther down, leaving no skid marks behind to show were it had stood. The passageway was dimly lit by some sort of green light, but it didn't show where it led to.

Fang nuzzled his way under Hermione's arm and bounded down into the entrance, disappearing into nothing. Hermione hesitated at the entrance, she'd come this far though already, and she couldn't return without Fang.

Hermione stepped into the passageway, and was able to pull the statue back over the entrance with the use of a small handle on her back. She was then in complete darkness, left with the sounds of Fang and the strange green lights around her.

After a small inspection, the dull green light was from some sort of algae growing on the walls. It didn't give Hermione the ability to see what was around her, but enough that she didn't trip and fall. The passage curved one way then another, a bit down, but mostly up until she came upon a set of steps. She found this by kicking the first step rather hard with her foot.

Hermione breathed in sharply, putting most of her weight on her other foot. "Damn it!"

Fang came up on her side, panting, nestling up to her side.

"I'm okay, I promise." Hermione reassured Fang. He'd been a sweet companion the road so far. "You go ahead up the stairs, I'll be right behind you."

Fang barked once, a jarring noise in comparison to the dear silence in the passageway. He bounded forward and up the stairs a few steps, turning back every so often as Hermione climbed the stairs to make sure she was following.

The stairs became less and less coated with dirt and more stone. Light began to trickle in from the outside and Hermione saw a resemblance to the stone that was used for the rest of the castle. From way the light came in, Hermione could confidently say that they were definitely in the right tower.

After what seemed like ages, Hermione popped up onto a small landing, light spilling in. There was nothing on the landing, just a small platform with room enough for three people if they kept real close to one another. She glanced around the landing, checking the walls then the floor for clues. All she saw were skid marks on the ground, probably from a ladder.

"But from where?" Hermione mused allowed, glancing up at the ceiling, and sure enough there was a high hanging leaver with a hatch in the ceiling. Hermione's heart was in her throat now, she hadn't put to much thought into what she was going to say to Draco once she found him up here.

Fang barked, his nose turned upwards to the hatch, which gave a creak before unfolding before her. There was hardly a chance to head back now. Fang gave a triumphant bark and scrambled up the slanted, wooden steps and through the hatch before the ladder hit the floor. There was a loud thud from above along with a low laugh.

Hermione swallowed back her doubts and headed up the steps and up into the late afternoon light.

She was hit with a mix of smells; she picked up oil paint, the ocean's breeze, cinnamon as well as something like iron. The room was a vast circle which contained a bed made with tattered blankets, stacks of books, and portraits stacked against the walls. In the middle of the room, wiggling around on a worn rug, was Prince Draco and Fang.

Fang's slobbery tongue lapped up the entirely of Draco's face, whose mouth was turned away, yet wide open with laughter. Hermione's chest tightened; Draco's features were alight with flaming pink cheeks and a messy haircut that framed his face. His wore a loose, open white shirt, with brown trousers and bare feet. He looked, perfectly happy rolling around on the floor, petting Fang.

"Such a good boy, so smart to sneak up here by yourself. Such a smart boy. Did you miss me?" Draco nuzzled his face into Fang's neck.

Hermione chuckled, watching the event unfold in front of her.

Draco froze, and immediately Hermione regretted all of the decisions that had led her to this point. His neck snapped up, his eyes falling onto Hermione half into the tower's main floor.

"You? What- how are you here?" He asked, struggling to his feet, but Fang kept him low to the ground.

"Oh, right. Fang was actually the one who led me here, Hagrid had-"

"What?" Draco cut in, his usual icy snap creeping back into his voice. Fang whimpered, nudging Draco with his nose.

"Hagrid, he leant me Fang because I wanted to find you. Hagrid was worried about you."

"Hagrid," Draco fumed, "never cared about me. He hasn't been a part of my life for over a decade, so my be worried now. Get _out._ "

Hermione straightened up, her mouth set into a hard line. "Hagrid is the person who finally made me think of you as a boy, as someone worth caring for. If you think he's stopped caring, he never has, not even when your _father_ told him to stay away."

"He- what?" Draco's eyebrows, which had been drawn together, unraveled. "That's not- no. I- no. My father wouldn't"

"What makes you think he wouldn't?" Hermione pushed, "I've seen your father, and if he thought it was in the best interest for the kingdom, he'd do it."

Draco shook his head at her. "That's just not- I- …"

"Hagrid told me what happened," Hermione insisted, " and if you want to hear everything he said, I'd be glad to tell you. From that, you can decide what to believe."

Draco's tongue ran across his lips, swallowing back some sort of taste in his mouth. "I- if you would, I would like to hear what his side of the story is."

"I'd be glad to." Hermione clambered up the last few steps, her dress catching something on the ground, and she toppled forward, throwing her hands out to break her fall. She hit the ground with a soft thud, mostly. Draco had somehow wrapped an arm across her chest to slow her descent to the ground.

Draco wrapped both arms around her and turned her over. His hands landed beside her, his fair hair inches from her face. His open shirt had fluttered to reveal a trail of skin. Hermione found there was no breath in her lungs to lose.

"Ah- Are you okay?" Draco breathed, shifting so that he wasn't so close to Hermione, a more respectful distance.

"Yes, I think so. I should have been more careful, thank you." Hermione lifted herself up, her gaze fixed on his left ear. "If you wouldn't mind, perhaps you may rebutton, or change your shirt?"

Draco's gaze flickered from her face to his own open chest before returning to her. "Do I make you nervous Granger?"

"What? No, of course not. It's just not proper to be dressed this way in front of a lady. And it's still Lady Granger, Prince Draco."

Draco chuckled, glancing up to meet Hermione's eyes as he scratched Fang behind the ear. "Did you forget you came up into my abode without a welcome?"

"Did you forget you opened the door?"

"I was expecting Fang alone, he's never brought someone with him."

"Really now?" Hermione tilted her head to the side. "How many times does Fang visit?"

"Not often recently," Draco relented, "but in years past he visited every other week. I took him up here with me so many times when I was young he's learned how to get up here."

Hermione nodded, pulling her feet up under her, and playing with a piece of lace on her dress. Draco had made no move to change or fix his shirt, and Hermione cursed herself for wanting to look at him. She wasn't sure if it was the lighting, or some aura in the room, but Draco seemed different from their past encounters.

"Now, if you would please," Draco began, gesturing to Hermione, "what did the gatekeeper say?"

"Well, _Hagrid_ was the one who helped me find you. I had originally wanted to discuss what happened with the Baron; we had talked just the other day on several items which I was told were disregarded, so I had wanted to find you." Hermione paused, had she wanted to tell Draco about how Pettigrew told her about the tower? The man was unsettling to say the least, but he had been the man to clue her into the mysterious tower that Draco made his own.

"Ah, well on that matter," Draco began, cutting into Hermione's thoughts, "I cannot- I don't recall what I said." Draco muttered his last few words, his eyes fixed on a random place on the floor.

"You can't recall?" Hermione's voice dripped with disbelief.

"Vaguely."

Hermione observed him, sitting there with a look of pure innocence she swore would never crossed the arrogant prince's face, yet there it was. Hermione sighed, folding her hands in front of her. "While I wasn't there, Kingsley said you referred to St. Catchpole as a self-promoting waste of resources, and the Baron as man who doesn't want St. Catchpole to prosper."

"From what you say, they are my own beliefs, yet I only remember my father's tone and-" Draco shook his head, beginning to pet Fang again. "I know that the Baron doesn't wish to agree with us, but the king has referred to them as a waste of funds. They over buy food for their population and they don't make sales as they had in years past, so that's underperforming and a waste of resources. This has happened since the baron took charge, so wouldn't you be confused by this as well? Everything about the deal seems suspicious to me. Maybe the-" Draco pursed his lips, breathing in sharply, "perhaps I could have stated my suspicions to the king alone, or in a more _proper_ manner in the ways of the court, as you like to say."

"That was well said, and although I've never read anything of the sort about their financial state, I will research the information myself." Hermione relented, nibbling into her bottom lip. She had been certain that the financial state of the kingdom had been in decline, so overspending made little sense. Was there something more to the deal?

"What happened after then?" Draco pressed, his hand sitting atop Fang's sleepy head, his shoulders sagging as he spoke. "I assume the bridge was burned?"

"No, I actually convinced them to agree."

"What?!" Draco's eyes snapped to hers, wide and curious. "How'd you do that?"

Draco was leaning forward, his eyes and body open in a way in which reminded Hermione of a child. What had happened to the arrogant, surrly boy who had dismissed her because of her station? Hermione swallowed back her astonishment, "Well, I pointed out the benefits of him agreeing, and the power he might hold from the deal. The trade off for him seemed more beneficial, and if the king wanted something so desperately, then he would hold that power. The baron isn't fond of your father, or the kingdom, so I used that."

Draco's tongue ran along his lips, breathing in and shaking his head low, staring into Fang's eyes. "That would be the way to do it. My- the king is never one to give away power or secrets of any kind. If the baron can figure out why he wants safe passage, then perhaps- Well let's say it might benefit others. You did well."

"Was- have I just received a compliment?"

Draco looked up from Fang, a smirk spreading across his face as if to say not to get ahead of herself, or perhaps to reflect the surprise he found from her astonishment.

"Well," Hermione defended, "you haven't been the most complimentary towards anyone. Praise seems- out of your character?"

Draco cocked an eyebrow, "If you'd rather me despise and neglect good work when it's done by all means I will."

"But why now? Why are you treating me like a person of worth?" Hermione insisted, she was out of line, she knew this, but when would she receive another chance? "Every other interaction it seemed as though you treated me below your station."

"From the moment I met you, you confused me." Draco started slowly, as if he was choosing his words. His hands stilled upon Fang's back. "A girl who saved me without knowing who I was- I would have died that night and have been perfectly content with it, yet I was saved by you. You, a woman I couldn't be sure as to your motive, yet time and time again you've persisted with your convictions. Even against all of my advances and the challenge of convincing the baron, you've succeeded and kept your good nature. Fang even brought you here, and he's never one to accept snakes. My apologies, but most who try and wriggle their way into this castle have some sort of motive to gain knowledge, wealth or power. You learn not to trust others." Draco breathed in and started petting Fang again. "You learn it young."

The hairs on her body stood on end, hearing Draco's soft voice shaking, as if in defeat shook her. Had Draco only known a cruel father? What about his mother? Was there a single person he could talk to?

Draco continued to scratch behind Fang's ears absentmindedly, bringing Hermione back to thoughts of Hagrid. "Are you including Hagrid?" Hermione asked, trying her best to keep her emotions in check. "In those you don't trust."

Draco's answer came more from his twitching lips and hunched shoulders as he curved over Fang then from the verbal confirmation he could give. Perhaps the only person he trusted was no person at all. Fang curled up against Draco, snuggling closer to the boy who played with him.

* * *

Ending Author's note: Where will their relationship grow from here? Will Draco continue to be 'arrogant'? Leave a comment about your thoughts so far or give a favorite/follow.


	14. Chapter 14

Her breath was caught in her throat and the smell of cinnamon pressing in on her. The man in front of her seemed closer than he ever had been before, yet he hadn't moved from his place besides Fang, who had since fallen asleep.

Draco sat, his legs folded under him, with caring, feather hands holding onto Fang. Around him, sitting in a pool of light from the ceiling windows, he seemed holy different from the arrogant prince Hermione had come to know. He seemed almost… new and innocent.

"Prince-"

"Draco," Draco interjected, his speech no louder than a breath of air. "You might as well given the circumstances."

"Yes, of course." Hermione relented, speaking his name when all she has done is call him an arrogant prince was no less than strange. "Draco, what was Hagrid to you?"

Draco's lips couldn't decide if he should smile or frown. "To me, Hagrid was warm and welcoming. A friend I could run away to if I the king was mad, or if my tutors were being strict. I probably found a million ways to sneak out of the castle to see him. He was inedible scones and hot tea. He was the person who I thought- He was my biggest supporter." Draco's lips had twitched upwards.

"What would you do when you were there?" Hermione prompted, recalling the wall of drawings.

"He'd keep colors for me so I could draw when I came around. I'd draw or run around with Fang most days." Draco sighed, twirling the long hairs on Fang's head around his fingers. "He used to hang some on his wall. They're probably ashes now."

"They're still there actually." Hermione watched as Draco visibly perk up, her chest took a lurch. "He's worried about you; he never wanted to- if he could he would have changed his actions."

"Why though?" Draco asked, making eye contact with Hermione for the first time since the conversation started. His eyes were rimmed pink. "Why?"

"He- your father, he went to Hagrid's hut one night and told him to stay away from you or he would be exiled. Hagrid said it was something about you needing to be around clean blood. He thought it was bollocks; he didn't care, but when the king threatened his death and then physically harming you Hagrid relented. If anything, Hagrid only ever wanted you to stay safe."

"I- he could've-" Draco ran a hand through his white blond hair, his breath hitching in his throat. "Why would the bastard say that?"

Hermione's brows knitted together, "Who are you referring to as the bastard?"

"I don't know, my cold-hearted father for threatening the only person I ever felt myself around, or for not keeping the promise he made to Hagrid. Maybe Hagrid for listening to the bastard in the first place and shutting me out- but at the same time," Draco threw up his hand, half-heartedly, groaning as he sank his face into Fang's neck, "At the same time I'm happy."

Fang turned his head, panting as he tried to lick Draco's face, but only got his ear. Draco laughed, flinching away from Fang and smiling as he wiped saliva from his ear.

Draco glanced up again, meeting Hermione's eyes and shifting away just as swiftly. "Sounds weird, huh?"

"No, not at all." Hermione waved her hands in the air, shaking her head. "If I realised someone important to me cared for me to the point that Hagrid does, then I would feel happy."

Draco smiled weakly, combing his fingers through Fang's hair. "Well thank you for coming down, I needed this."

Draco sat there, running his slim finger through Fang's fur. Please with his work, Fang shifted and rolled himself into Draco's lap. Draco shook his head, but he scratched and rubbed even more.

"I don't think I've ever seen you like this" Hermione stated, more to herself than for others to hear.

Draco's hand stilled, his shoulders curling back as he straightened up to look at Hermione. "And what do you mean by that? That I'm not acting a prince?"

Hermione could feel heat rising into her cheeks. "I meant that you're not acting like an arrogant know it all who believes he's above everyone else!" Hermione retorted.

Draco lifted an eyebrow, "Are you calling me arrogant?"

Hermione mimicked him, surprising herself with her own snark to a crown prince. "Maybe I am. But really, you're so different now then before, how do I know which boy is the real one? The perfect prince of Salazar? The boy who gained riches and power, and you haven't gone a moment without reminding others of that. I've only seen you as a jerk, but you seem different in this moment. So tell me, who am I talking to now?"

Draco rolled his eyes as he relaxed back into Fang, plucking off stray black hairs from his shirt. "Salazar is the best Kingdom, I've been told this all my life-read about how other kingdoms were even. They don't have pride, so what royal family are we if we do not take it as an honor and a price ledge to live here? I wasn't born for the throne, so being in the eye of a higher society… it's changed my family." Draco scratched behind Fang's ear, breathing out slowly. "Probably for the worst."

Hermione could only look at the boy in front of her, she wasn't exactly sure who he was anymore. What was it about now that made him different?

Hermione glances around the room as the silence grew between them. The room was a mix of stone and wood, colorful paint was dropped onto the floor, mixed with wax. An easel stood by the paintings, covered by what looked like an worn bedsheet. The smell of fresh paint was still in the air, mixed with a pleasant scent of cinnamon. Draco, paying no mind to her, didn't seem to notice the street of white paint along his jawline.

"Prince, I mean- Draco," Hermione stumbled, trying to relax both her speech and her body. "What is this place?"

Draco blinked away sunlight as he glanced around the room. "I'm not entirely sure myself at times. When I was younger I needed some place to… well I needed space to be alone and sleep. It was hard being a perfect child." Draco glanced up and winked at her, "but I had no trouble on that front."

Hermione scoffed, reclining back from him. "I doubt that."

"My perfection?"

"Why not include that into the mix?" Hermione questioned, inclining her head to Draco, as if she were speaking to a child. "I doubt that you came here for such simple reasons. No one was able, prior to you, to access this part of the castle. No one knows what's up here, prior to those in this room. I have a hard time believing you come here to sleep. How did you find this tower, why stay here?"

"And how do you expect to understand? Someone such as yourself has no idea as to what I've lived through, or why this tower let me in."

"Why? Why do you think I wouldn't know? Because I'm of a lower station than you? You weren't always crown prince of-"

"I KNOW I wasn't born into this, and that's exactly why!" Draco exclaimed, frightening Fang from him.

"Pardon?"

"Don't pardon me, act higher than me, or- or pretend to know what it is that I've lived through. Being me isn't every wish come true, it is constant pressure and disappointment that you're not better- that you're the only one to choose from. Guess who'll be king? Oh- me! Seeing as I have no other siblings. The amount of attempts on my life haunt me while you sleep soundly. Disappointment only ends in lashes and representations and I wouldn't be surprised if my throat is cut by you."

Draco's breath was haggard; his fists were clenched and shaking upon his thighs.

"Lashes?" Hermione asked, choking on her own words.

Draco, his eyes never moving from her face, opened his shirt wider, revealing red stained bandages. "Lashes, put there by the king, my own father. these are just the most recent."

"How could he?" Hermione choked out, her throat closing as tear pooped behind her eyes. How long had Draco suffered like that? Months? Years or decades? Hermione curled her upper body towards her heart, attempting to suppress the growing weight in her chest.

"Easily, actually. If you were as smart as you say you are, you'd leave right now, or you might be the one on the receiving end." Draco spat out the last line, his eyes narrowed and looking past Hermione as if remembering something he wish he could forget.

The tension in her chest only grew at his words. "How could I leave you like that? Alone? Has anyone tried to help, tried to save you?"

Draco reclined back, shifting away from her as if she painting poison on her lips. "I don't know your reasoning for being here, for caring." Draco responded, wincing as he closed up his shirt. "I certainly don't need your pity. It'd be best for you to leave now before the king visits your chamber when you slip up."

"What has the man done to you all these years to close you off from others? Accepting help, or anothers empathy towards you, is not pity or weakness. In fact it shows your leadership. You cannot always be the one with the answers, that why you have a council of people behind you, helping you and wanting the best for you."

"So a seat on my council when I-"

"No!" Hermione exclaimed, slamming her palms down onto her thighs. "Nothing of the sort. I don't want your gold, or riches or favors. I want you to be safe, confident, and a good leader for the future of Salazar." Hermione shifted to her knees shifting closer to place her fingertips on the back of his hand. "It might be difficult to believe, but I'm distraught over the what you father threatened to Hagrid, and what happened- is happening- to you. No person, man woman or child, should be subjected to what you have. You think you don't know me, well I don't know you, but I'd like to."

"But why?" Draco hissed at her, moving his hand away from her. "What's in it for you? You come here with a high tale of being robbed, and you just happen to find me after my near death. It all seems planned."

Hermione sighed, sitting back on her feet as she deliberated her next words. Would he be open to the thoughts of mermaids and sirens? Hearing the supposed end of Salazar, him being the catalyst? Hermione looked up into the hard, cold face she had seen since her arrival. If she was going to get anywhere with him, holding secrets wouldn't work. But would he try to kill her if she revealed her identity? Would he call her ridiculous if she mentioned mermaids and sirens? Possibly.

"Go on," Draco prompted, "tell me I'm right and you can leave without my father hearing about this."

Hermione balked, sitting back on her feet as her heart shot up her throat. "Are you threatening me? And by telling your father?"

"More of a warning. He seems to be able to hear all within these walls."

"Except for in here?" Hermione questioned.

Draco glanced to the open window, nodding slowly before stepping over Fang, stepping up onto the bed, to close it. "I don't believe so, but this is the only place his filthy presence has never stepped in. I intend to keep it that way, so depending on your answer will dictate the rest of this… relationship, for lack of a better word." Draco perched himself on the edge of the bed, his elbows resting on his knees as he leaned in towards Hermione. "Why are you here? What's in it for you?"

Hermione blew out a breath of air, straightening herself as Draco's eyes bored into her own. "Do you believe in magic? Do you believe that someone can see your future?"

Draco scoffed, leaning back, placing a hand beside himself for support. "Spell Casters use ingredients and produce magic, so I believe in them because I can see or feel it. Seeing the future is bollocks, and I've never met someone who knew the future from the reflection in their glass ball."

"Well," Hermione hesitated, choosing her words. "The reason I followed you into the castle was because I was told by a seerer that I would save you from those trying to kill you."

"Rubbish," Draco scoffed, lifting himself to his feet, towering over Hermione.

"Please, let me explain." Hermione rose to her feet, toe to toe with Draco, her palms up in fron to f her chest. "I was told of your drowning, and that the people who caused it wouldn't be giving up so easily. Theseerer said that the best way to protect you was to stay beside you."

"You're going to protect me?" Draco questioned, stepping closer to Hermione so that she had to crane her neck to look up. "How?"

"I couldn't tell you _how_ I am, but I believe it's true. I contemplated leaving, but if I did, then the people who tried to end you the other night will try again. I'm not sure how, but it has to deal with your family, the kingdom. If I'm not here, the seerer said that they would succeed and kill you, which will begin a string of cataclysmic events that will be the end of Salazar as you know it." Hermione's words were spilling and tripping over each other. "I don't know a better way to explain it, but it's the honest truth. I had doubts, sure, but wouldn't you want to play it safe?"

Hermione took in a shaky breath as she watched Draco shift on the bed, leaning forward and looking into his interlocked fingers. She sat up a bit straighter as Draco's eye glanced up to her.

"You had doubts? Then when did they change?"

"The moment I saw you wrapped in chains and sinking in the ocean. How could anyone predict that, so why not believe the rest?"

"If," Draco bit his lip and looked away, "Let's say that I believe you. What've you been doing to help, or stop this?"

"Well, I've tried to get to know you to start. That was going great by the way," she tacked on, her voice lifting with her sarcasm. "But I've been trying to read up on Salazar history and a bit on sirens as well."

"Sirens?" Draco questioned, straightening up to look at her.

"Ah, yes." Hermione wished she could've just shoved a foot in her mouth, there should be a better way to break it to someone that these things exist. "Sirens-"

"So they are real then." Draco mused. "Who woulda thought."

"Pardon? You're doubting seerers, but you're taking the thought of sirens being real rather well."

Color touched Draco's cheeks as he shifted his weight on the bed. "Ah, so my aunt, the duchess, has been ranting about them for… about my entire life. Hearing that they're real might mean she's not a total nutcase. Maybe there's a less crazed woman in there."

"Perhaps," Hermione replied, but she highly doubted it for some reason.

"Regardless," Draco continued, sliding from the bed to sit on the floor across from her. "What do sirens have to do with my attempted murder? I was on a ship, with men who threatened me for ransom before I stepped off the boat."

"That- well I'm not sure. That's why I hope you could remember all that you could about the men, that night, and something that might point to the sirens. I know we're looking for a person with a locket of some sort, I'll-" Hermione stopped herself, she had no real idea what that locket looked like. She would have to get into contact with Luna of Harry.

The silence drew on until Draco broke it. "A locket? What kind?"

"A green one, but the design… I'll have to show you the picture I have. The seerer drew one," She was lying through her teeth, so she would _need_ to find Luna. "Maybe you'll recognise it from that night."

"I can do that."

"Wonderful." Hermione clasped her hands together, this was going alright. They were actually talking. "We can get started on research, but we'll have to be careful, because we don't know who the person with the locket is."

"Right," Draco agreed, nodding along with her as Fang meandered over to him to place his head onto Draco's lap, "and Hermione?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you, for-" Draco glanced down at Fang, a grin taking the place of his usual smirk. "You wouldn't have known just how much I needed this just now. And for not giving up on me when I tried to get you to leave." Draco turned his attention to Hermione, looking at her from under his lashes, "Believe me when I say people don't usually stick around."

Hermione giggled at that, "Believe me I know, and I would do it all over again. You needed… someone." Hermione finished, shifting her head to the side as she relaxed into herself."

Draco threw his head back, smiling even wider than Hermione thought possible, and she realized he was laughing. "You really are something."

It was in that moment, Hermione felt a slight twinge in her heart, a warm flutter at Draco's words, or maybe it was how sweet he seemed as he sat with Fang. His eyes met hers, and Hermione knew she'd be lying to herself, if she tried to deny that this feeling wasn't something she felt before.

* * *

Ending Author's note: A LOT of stuff happened, but where will their relationship grow from here? Leave a comment about your thoughts so far or give a favorite/follow.

Follow me on tumblr at: blog/smilyhufflepuff-blog or search smilyhufflepuff: and you can find some Leagues Away inspiration, or updates on the story :) I just made it, so if there are any suggestions as to what you'd like to see I'm open to hear them!


	15. Chapter 15

Hermione had lived her entire life with a sense of purpose and direction, but as she watched the sun rising over the ocean's horizon, she was utterly lost. Last night's adventure to Draco's tower had gone late into the night, and it had made her more curious about the future Luna had seen more than ever.

Yes, only the future, not the boy she'd met for the first time last night.

At the same time she felt a twinge of guilt, she was curious about Draco too, and who he really was. When she saw him again, would be be the arrogant prince, would there be a hint of the sweet boy from last night? From the sound of him, his life hadn't been easy. What had even been with her last night, how her insides warmed and twisted?

She put her hand over her heart, sighing as she fell backwards into the grass and dug her toes into the dray sand. She had snuck from her bed chambers and down to the ocean to watch the sunrise, and hopefully find Luna or Harry by the cave she had given herself legs, but now she was all alone with her thoughts. At the moment, it wasn't exactly where she wanted to be.

The hand over her heart shifted, falling sideways and landing on top of a satchel. Hermione had taken a change of men's clothes from the laundry room and stuffed them in the satchel in hopes Harry would join her in the castle. There was sure to be much to comb through, and she couldn't do it by herself. She also wasn't sure if she should be alone with Draco at the moment.

Hermione propped herself up on her elbows and back into a sitting position, as she stared out at sea. Her future had seemed clear and paid out, that she would work as a tutor at Durmstrang and find a man to marry. But at the same time she would have to watch Viktor go on to marry a princess; she wasn't of high rank, and any future with him would be a fantasy. When she was done here, would she return to Durmstrang and seeing that future unfold?

There was a splash, a loud one, making Hermione flinch away from her thoughts. She glanced up and around until she noticed two pairs of eyes peeking at her from behind the rocks at the entrance of the cave.

"Harry," Hermione breathed, "and Luna, oh I'm so glad you came."

Hermione scrambled to her feet, snatching up the satchel and her shoes she'd kicked off, and hurried over to the cave. She stepped lightly over the stones and saw Harry and Luna come into full view. They'd inched their way into shallow water, Luna's radish earrings kissing the water's surface.

"It's good to see you too. We've had a few merfolk watching for you in case you came around," Harry said with a grin, but the expression fell from his face as quickly as it appeared. "But I have to say that there's been more siren activity at the coast than I've ever seen before."

"Has there really?" Hermione gasped, her hands flying to her mouth as the satchel fell from her fingers. "Have they been causing trouble, singing or-" Hermione snapped her fingers, a connection forming in her mind, "that would explain the storms and the lost ships that King Lucius is worried about at dinner the other night."

Luna nodded solemnly, "They're getting bold, more than they've ever been. I'm afraid that if they continue at this rate the future I saw might be closer than I once thought."

"Closer how?" hermione questioned, gathering her skirts up to sit close to the water's edge. She was wearing a light blue dress, with minimal layering and jewelry.

"I see the future clearer, more… eminent, but the timing is different, closer each time it comes to me. At first it was years from now, the next a single year, and the visions only come closer…" Luna trailed off, biting the insides of her cheeks.

Harry placed a hand around her shoulders, "Sh, we'll figure it out Luna." Harry glanced up at Hermione, and from the grim expression and the gaunt circles under his eyes told a different story.

"I hate to ask," Hermione whispered softly, inching closer to the water's edge in hopes of somehow comforting Luna, "but is there anything you can see to stop it from happening? Made who's leading the sirens? You mentioned a locket last time which belonged to the person."

Luna nodded, twiddling with her radishes. "I- yes there's something with that. It goes so deep that the visions make little sense even to me. It makes me wonder if I'm somehow being blocked from seeing anything at all. Useless," Luna stuck out her bottom lip, her shoulders curling inwards.

"No hold on there!" Harry demanded, taking hold of Luna's face and glaring at her, "you are not allowed to call yourself that, _ever!_ You hear me? I know you're scared, and worried about what you've been seeing, but without you we'd never have known any of this. So please, trust yourself and us. We'll get through this together, okay?"

Luna nodded, tears welling up and streaming down her smushed face.

Harry released her face and pulled her in for a hug and he patted the top of her head.

Hermione sat at the ocean's edge, yearning to return to the water and the friends before her, yet she felt more of an outsider than ever before in her life. There was no way for her to comfort this girl, whom she'd never met in her life. This was something between the two of them.

Luna glanced up from the hug, and with an airy voice that had never seen death she spoke. "Oh Hermione, don't fret. I know you wish to help, but this is something I must handle on my own. If anything, you need Harry to be by your side, I've always known it would happen, remember?"

Harry glanced down at the girl in his arms, taken aback. "What do you mean?"

Luna sighed, smiling up at Harry as she slid away, "I mean, you need to go with Hermione. If things continue to progress, then she'll need you more than ever. I'll be alright." Luna held onto Harry's hands before moving closer to Hermione, leveling with her eyes.

Hermione unconsciously leaned back at the sudden closeness. "Um, Luna? If-"

"Please," Luna whispered, her lips an inch from Hermione's ear, the scent of sea brine filling her thoughts, "Keep Harry away from his fate, keep him by your side, please. I'm counting on you." Luna leaned away smiling, and speaking louder, "Now don't you worry at all, Harry will be with you. I did manage to carve an image into a flat stone- Harry did you bring it?"

Luna and Hermione glanced back at Harry, who just sat there mouth hanging open. "What?"

Luna made a image in the air of the stone, "The stone, the one with the locket on-"

"Oh, oh yeah." Harry scoured the ocean floor around him and pulled up a hefty flat stone, "How could I forget this guy?"

Luna motioned for it, which Harry handed to her. "Now this," Luna traced her fingers of the image, which Hermione had to say was extremely detailed given the material it was etched into, "is the locket I saw the ringmaster wearing. I don't have anything more to go off of, but I do know he has a connection to the line of Salazar, so I would suggest looking there first."

Luna handed off the rock to Hermione, which felt rather slick and hefty in her hands. She set it next to her, besides the satchel, which Luna opened up with her tail fin.

"Oh look!" Luna exclaimed, holding up a white shirt to Harry. "Human clothes! Maybe Hermione can see a bit of the future too."

"Oh um," Hermione made a grab for the shirt. "I did come with some clothing- I-"

"So you want him to come with you! I knew you'd need him, I saw it after all."

"Ah- Yes, well I was hoping that Harry would come. It's a bit overwhelming trying to wrap my head around this, but if you need to stay with Luna, Harry, by all means."

"Luna I think-" Harry began, reaching out a hand for Luna.

"No!" Luna exclaimed, snapping her head and Harry's hand as she faced him. "You need to go with her. Your friend needs you alright? I need you to go for my own sanity. You- she's all alone up there and if you leave her alone so help me I will fill your bed with nargels."

"What are nargels," Hermione mused to herself, taken aback by the strange threat.

Harry looked incredulously at Luna, shaking his head. "You're impossible. The strangest girl I've ever met and you never make sense."

Luna put a hand on Harry's shoulder as she took a deep breath, looking up into Harry's green eyes. "That just means you're not listening idiot."

Hermione and Luna burst into laughter as Harry groaned and flopped back into the water. "Why don't I have male friends?"

"So that means…" Hermione asked, trailing off her words as Harry sat back up.

Harry shrugged, smiling, "I guess I'm going to get my land legs back."

Luna smiled, moving further into the water. "Well get on with it, I'll be getting back. If you need me, I'm sure a merperson will be watching."

With one last goodbye Luna disappeared beneath the surface.

"Are you okay Harry?" Hermione asked as she gave him a lift under the arm up onto the sand so that his tail no longer touched the ocean.

Harry sighed, laying back onto Hermione's lap, his eyes closed. "You know, I've been worrying about Luna, the prophecy, you, literally everything and I wish I could take it all off your shoulders. Maybe Luna was right."

"Well one thing's for sure," Hermione said, pinching Harry's nose, "You need to get up from my lap and stop blaming yourself."

Harry jerked up at the pinch, looking back at Hermione as if she'd kicked him.

"And don't give me that look, you shouldn't put your head on another lady's lap when you're still pining for another."

"I'm- That was _years_ ago when we were _kids_ when I liked Ginny."

"Are you not counting when you went to see her?"

Harry was pure red in the face, the color spreading down his neck and up his ears.

"Right, well just so you know Harry, the girls in your life are looking after you. I want what's best for your safety and happiness, and the same for other living creatures." Hermione smiled warmly, patting Harry's head, "Thank you for worrying, and we'll let you know what we need when we know what it is. In the meantime, you ready to lose the sea legs?"

* * *

"Well that was something," Harry commented weakly as he stuffed his legs into his trousers. "I can't believe you were able to do that to yourself."

"Yeah," Hermione agreed, having her back to Harry as he changed. "Me as well."

It was worse to see another person in pain than it was to experience it herself. When Hermione started the separation, Harry gasped and writhed with pain. She had to go slower, and it was horrible to watch. Maybe it was the fact that she used her fire as a human, perhaps it was a weaker fire? There was still so much she didn't know about herself.

Harry placed a hand on her shoulder. "Don't worry, I'm fine now. We only have to be like this until we save Draco and find out who's leading the siren's right? How hard could it be?"

"I've been trying to research it, going on almost nothing." Hermione held up the satchel, which now held the stone with the locket etched on it. "Maybe with this we can at least track down the mastermind behind everything. Judging by the intricate designs, it must have belonged to royalty."

"That doesn't sound that bad," Harry mused to himself, ruffling his now dry hair. He'd been trying to flatten the back part of his hair, but it wouldn't stay down. "So what's my backstory then? Should I go ask for a job?"

"Hm," Hermione tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, "I'll introduce you to the gatekeeper, Hagrid. If he knows you're in on helping Draco he should be willing. They should be needing more staff for the- well there'll be a ball in two weeks so maybe for that they'll need staff."

"A ball? What for? To celebrate people disappearing?"

"Wha- no. No, it's for the prince to find a wife, but that's beside the point."

"Hermione?" Harry turned in front of her, getting to her eye level, "Do you like the prince?"

Hermione blinked.

Harry stared at her, unblinking. "Well?"

"Well, nothing." Hermione choked out, keeping at bay the images of Draco from the other night. He'd been so vulnerable and strangeling caring yet broken and- "He's a prince," Hermione finished out loud, her shoulders curling into herself. "That leaves no room for error, and certainly no space for a lower class."

"Hermione that sounds like you're trying to convince yourself and-" Harry's head snapped around, glancing over his shoulder before he pushed Hermione further into the cave and against a wall. He stood next to her, holding a finger up to his lips.

Hermione nodded, turning an ear to the entrance of the cave to listen. There was a scattering of rocks and voices.

"How much farther?" came a strong, commanding voice, echoing from the front entrance of the cave.

"Just a little more, Your Majesty," came a squeaky voice Hermione recognized as Pettigrew, the royal advisor. The first voice suddenly clicked, it was King Lucius.

Hermione motioned to Harry to move farther inwards. They shuffled silently and hid behind a junt from the wall.

Hermione peeked around, confirming her suspicions. She sank back into Harry, mouthing to him 'king'.

Harry's eyes went wide as he mouthed 'why?'

Hermione shrugged, tuning back into their conversation, which wasn't hard, regardless of their whispering, given the echo effect.

"Now, why did you drag me to a far off cove for a _conversation_ Pettigrew?" Snarled the king.

Memories from her conversation with Draco resurfaced upon hearing his voice. The perfect image he carried was a mere facade, tainting the picture of his wife and son. Hermione breathed through gritted teeth; Harry noticed her unfolding and wrapped his hand into her own, giving it a squeeze.

"Well, as you know, princesses and other noble women will be arriving in seven days. I have heard word that some will arrive even earlier than that, but-"

"You believe it wouldn't be safe?" Lucius finished.

"Why- yes, yes that's exactly it. With everything with ships going missing. Do you think its the-"

" _Enough!"_ Lucius snarled, Hermione could see the way his perfect stone expression had crumpled in that moment. "You are to _never_ discuss those foul creatures in front of me. Our visitors will be safe, and the kingdom's future is secure. I have already chosen Draco's queen, as the purest blood from Salazar's line, she is the obvious choice. At my request she is traveling by land, and so will many others. There is no concern."

"Yes, Your Majesty. Yet there are reports that the residents of Salazar are disappearing from their homes, or the streets. What should we do? There is panic in the streets and-"

"I have been informed, and there is no connection-"

"Yet Bellatrix-"

There was a the sound of something being whipped through the air. A loud thunk and a grunt as Pettigrew collapsed onto the rocky ground.

Hermione clenched Harry's hand, her whole body ridged as she held herself against the cave's wall. Now was not the time, nor place for a confrontation.

" _Never_ mention them together." Lucius hissed, another thump and groan ensued. "She needs to forget. Now, get up. You have a ball ro prepare, and I have a sister-in-law to set straight."

Hermione listened to Pettigrew's coughing and the scattering of rocks as he clambered to his feet. The sound of their footsteps faded until all she could hear was in the tides rolling in, lapping at the rocks.

Harry breathed out, yet Hermione stayed where she was.

How could the king, who had somehow mended bridges between the fractured kingdoms, been a brutal, abusive creature? He had no right to the name king, or father or man for that matter.

"Hey- Um, Hermione?" Harry whispered, tugging on her hand.

" _What?_ " she growled, turning her face away from Harry.

"Well you're breathing fire, and I'm not talking metaphorically."

Hermione pressed her lips together, which were a bit warm, now afraid she might still be fuming.

"Wanna talk about it?" Harry questioned, leaning down to look into Hermione's eyes.

Hermione breathed out, sliding down the wall and wrapping her arms around her legs. "It's a long story," Draco's bloodied wrappings at the forefront of her mind, "and I don't even know the half of it… you ready?"

Harry sinked to the ground next to her, wrapping a protective arm around her shoulders. "Always."

* * *

Ending Author's note: Harry's back in action, Luna is deathly afraid, and what's Hermione think about Draco? Leave a comment about your thoughts so far or give a favorite/follow.


	16. Chapter 16

Hermione had read the same paragraph three times over and not a single sentence sunk into her brain. Each time she tried to push out the image of Draco smiling, he would come back laughing, or playing with Fang. She was seeing Draco play in the ocean and calling over to her when the real Draco knocked over a stack of books as he tried to put an even taller tower on the table.

Hermione's whole body shot up, straightening up as she the real Draco took over her vision. He was a bit flustered, fumbling with the texts he'd brought over and saving the other tower from falling off the table.

"Oh, you found them then?" Hermione asked, her voice coming out a bit squeaky.

Hermione was sitting at a long, deep brown conference table in a sectioned off room in the library. It was an ornate room lined with portraits from Salazar's line of royals. The queen had offered the room to them so they would not be disturbed during Draco's sessions. Instead of having a session on one of Queen Narcissa's requested topics, they were reading up on any history of Salazar that would have a connection to sirens.

Draco ran his fingers along the spines of the books, sighing. "To be honest, I found books that were close. There's the 'Founding of the Great Kingdom of Salazar' by Merlin, he wrote three volumes," Draco indicated the bottom three, which were the thickest of the stack, "Then there's a few smaller ones that are folklore, but I doubt that there'll be anything to connect the two together."

"Well," Hermione drawled, grabbing hold of the base of the stack and pulling it towards her, "We won't know for sure until we read everything and then some if we don't."

"Everything?" Draco exclaimed, his eyebrows shooting upwards towards his hairline. "You realize we don't have more than two hours here."

Hermione tapped his seat, smiling widely at the tone of his voice, "Then I suggest you get reading, or it'll be homework for the both of us. Then it's off to find portraits and family trees after our lesson. You can't be seen out of this room until our session is over."

Draco groaned, but sat down and picked up the top book titled 'The Fish Who Swim Among Us' by Xenophilius Lovegood. He glanced up at Hermione, an expression of amusement seeping through the one he was trying to portray, then opened up the book and started reading.

Hermione tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, sat back in her seat, and fished out the first volume by Merlin. She flipped it open to the table of contents, glazing over the chapter titles for something interesting. The first and fourth chapters seemed promising. The first chapter described Salazar Slytherin, a powerful Spell Caster, who had turned his back on three other Spell Casters based on disagreements surrounding the relationship Slytherin believed they should have with subjects and royals alike. He believed his station as a Spell Caster as something above the norm, something to be revered. He swore by pure magical lines and swore his line to secrecy, Merlin included apparently. Anything less, other royals included, were beneath him and were treated as such. From then on, it went to list punishments dealt out by Slytherin and the formation of the kingdom.

Hermione glanced up from her text, Draco was supporting his head by the chin as he read. What was the opinion of the subjects, or the other royals for that matter, who saw Duke Lucius to the throne after the Spell Caster War? Would they be angered as Salazar would be over the royal bloodline ending and being replaced? What was Draco's opinion?

Draco lifted his chin from its place in his hand to turn a page, glancing up at Hermione from under his lashes as he did so. He froze for a moment, his fingers gripping the page. "Is there something wrong? Or did you find something?"

"Oh no, I was lost in thought." Hermione tucked her hair behind her ear, her eyes darting away from him. "I was reading how Salazar began, who its founder was. He seemed… intense on how to run a kingdom, to say the least."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, according to Merlin, who is one of Salazar's bloodline, Salazar Slytherin was a Spell Caster who believed himself above others, royal or otherwise. It talked of punishments over disagreements, a few from speaking out of turn, and an overall sense of superiority."

"Where did you read that?" Draco questioned, holding his hand out for the book, "My mother would read it to me when I was younger, and it never spoke of punishments or superiority."

"It's all described in such a way to make Slytherin seem in the right, but if you read in between the lines it tells a different story." Hermione twisted the book around and slid it over to Draco, "When Merlin describes how Slytherin dealt with management of the kingdom, he says 'Those unclean were dismissed once charges were brought against them by pure bloods', which translates to anyone who disagreed with him, who wasn't a pure blood Spell Caster, was exiled from the kingdom'. Most of the disagreements were over the castle being built and the workers in unrest. You can fill in what's being said from other history books."

Draco took the book and glazed over it himself, and as he read the crease between his brows deepened. He turned a page, flipped back, and read it once more, then again. He shifted in his seat, then crossed his legs as he ran his fingers through his hair.

"Are you alright?" Hermione questioned, leaning forward in her seat. "You're making me worry."

"No it's just," Draco bit his lip and sat back in his seat, smoothing his hair back down. "I was- you know- I've been told all of this growing up, but not in the way you described it. What happened to the workers after they left?"

Hermione shrugged as Draco turned another page, a sketch of Salazar Slytherin staring at her from upsidedown. "I'm not entirely sure, but in Matilda Bagshot's volumes I think she mentioned them leaving and rallying together to make their own home, but she never mentioned the name-"

"Uh, Hermione?" Draco asked, pointing towards the book.

"Then again," Hermione continued, having boarded her own train of thought, "what if they're who were designed the castle? They would've made the passageways."

"Hermione." Draco spoke louder, with more assurance, but Hermione was gazing just over his shoulder as her thoughts picked up speed.

"But it was so long ago it doesn't make sense."

"Hermione!" Draco banged his hand in front of Hermione, making her jump in her seat. "Oh, sorry I didn't- well I wanted you to see this. Could this-" Draco twirled around the book on the table, pointing to the locket around Slytherin's neck- "is this the locket the seerer said?"

Hermione glanced down at the page, the locket was rimmed silver, the center was gold with a snake creating an 'S' in the center. It was an exact match to what Luna had carved into the stone. "Oh, oh my goodness. Did we find it? That's exactly what it looks like! Where is it, do you know?" Hermione was smiling so widely it hurt, she laughed, running her fingers through her hair. "Bloody hell, it never works out that simply."

"Well, actually it does." Draco said, sighing and flipping to the next page to point at the beginning of a paragraph. "The locket has been lost since Salazar's _death_. This goes back to the founding of Salazar. We don't even know where to look."

"Ah," Hermione's shoulders, and her smile, sagged. "Well then. I guess I jumped to conclusions." Hermione sighed, brushing her hair back behind her shoulder.

"You were cu- I mean, it was well intended." Draco drew the book back to him, his fingers playing with the corners of a page, as if he'd also said something he'd have regretted. "Anyways, Slytherin's locket was something I was told about as a child by my aunt. She used to say it held powers muggles could only dream of."

"Muggles?" Hermione questioned.

"Ah, it basically means non-magical folk. I learnt it from Snape that it's a term Spell Casters use." Draco waved his hand nonchalantly, his eyes back on the book. "Not important though."

"Not important? I don't think so," Hermione countered, placing her hand on the book and lowering it to the table so that Draco had to look at her. "Maybe not 'muggles', but perhaps your aunt knows something?"

Draco scoffed, shaking his head at Hermione. "Are you sure you've meet my aunt? If she did remember anything, all that's jumbled up in her head at this point."

"Well, since she's not able to, what else do you remember about the locket?"

Draco closed the book, "Not much, but I'll try to remember. She would always speak them to me before bed. Perhaps I'll remember, so I'll write them down when I have time."

"Time?" Hermione questioned.

"Well, I believe we're almost out of time, and-" Draco glanced away from her, leaning back in his seat and spreading his legs out before him. "I need to see my mother and Twilfitt and Tattings shortly for a fitting."

"Oh," Hermione sank back into her seat, her fingers playing with a page, "For your party you mean?"

Draco nodded, and Hermione couldn't help but think of the conversation she'd overheard earlier and how the king 'already chose the wife'. Was that something Draco would want to know?

"Um, Draco?" Hermione started, speaking softly as first, shifting awkwardly in her seat. "Are you alright, with the party and finding a wife?"

Draco ran a finger through his hair, sighing as he picking at a stray string on his shirt. "That's- it's what's expected of me."

"Yes," Hermione agreed, nibbling at her inner cheeks, cursing herself in her boldness. "But, have you met these ladies? Or is there someone whom you fancy? Is this what you truly want? Honestly."

Draco shook his head, his tongue running along his teeth. "I mean, what if I wanted to- well, kings do not _need_ a wife, or I could-" Draco glanced back at Hermione, his shoulders sagging. "I can't honestly say what I want."

"Well," Hermione shifted in her seat, placing the book flat on the table, and crossing her hands over her knees. "You've meet all of the ladies? Maybe there's a woman to surprise you."

Draco looked at Hermione, he was trying to smile, but it didn't reach his eyes and it sent a coldness through her at the very sight. "I've met them," he whispered, carefully watching Hermione's ever changing expression, "and there's not a single one I'd want to take as a wife."

Hermione prosisted, her mind talking for her about the logical option against her own beliefs. "But as a prince you must-"

"Hermione," Draco cut through her words, not just with her name, but in _how_ his voice cracked as he spoke it. His fingers were wrapped around the arms of his seat, "For my whole life, there hasn't been a chance for me to choose… well, anything. If anything," Draco broke off, taking a breath as if to steady himself for what was to come, "I don't want a political marriage. I want a union with a woman I desire, and not by what she could give the kingdom."

Hermione, smiling softly, nodded along with Draco, but she wasn't the one to convince. "What about the king and queen?" she questioned, "Would they let you?"

Draco smiled sadly, looking away from Hermione as he rose to his feet, "Not if they're alive, so perhaps I'll stay as I am until that time I have the ability to choose." Draco shrugged, opening his book back to the page open to the portrait of Salazar Slytherin with his locket, laying it in front of Hermione again. "Or I'll just have to do as they say, and marry the woman they choose."

"Well, why should you?" Hermione demanded, the chair scraping the floor as she shot upwards, her hands flying to her hips. "You have every right to choose whom you marry. Yes, it's always been a princess or some person of royalty, but there's always a first. You could be it, you could forge your own path!"

"Lad- Hermione," Draco corrected the words before they tumbled forth, his speech slowing as he breathed out. "I truly appreciate everything you've done for me." Draco enunciate each word, looking up to catch Hermione's sagging shoulders at his reassuring words. "But there's no going against them, not in something of this magnitude. Not a wedding if there's a chance to 'strengthen the line'. If I'd even told them I would prefer pigs meat, from The Burrough, to the octopus the fishermen catch off our own shore each morning, my mother would, quite literally, faint in her seat. With that, there is no way I could ever request to decide whom to marry." Draco ran his hand through his hair, the other resting upon the table as if steadying himself from the outburst.

The memory of the paintings, hidden behind sheets, of paint dripped onto the floor in that small space. Was that what he did for hours on end, paint? What did he even paint? Was the abandoned tower the only place Draco could call his own? Or even be his own person and make his own choices?

Questions flooded her thoughts and flew to the tip of her tongue, yet, as she pursued Draco's expression, whose persona was ladened with a palpable dejection, as a crease built between her brows. "Your Highness, have you _ever_ expressed this desire to anyone before? Wishing to, well have pigs meat, or choose your wife?"

A shadow of a smile graced his features, "The story's a bit long to tell, and I'm afraid I'll be able to stay for much longer." Draco began, taking in a long breath as his fingers curled on the tabletop.

"Are you happy though," Hermione questioned, stepping away from her chair and picking her way to Draco's side. "Being here, being a prince?"

"It's an honor,"Draco snapped, his body straightening up.

Hermione shook her head, seeing a different answer in his sunken eyes as his lips attempted a laugh. "I don't believe you." She took a small step closer as her hand rose to brush against his arm, "You're not happy."

The veins in Draco's neck flashed against his pale skin, yet he averted his eyes from Hermione's own. "You don't- If I may," Draco cut in, possibly having seen Hermione lean forward with another probing question on her mind, but his voice softened. "In the past twenty-four hours, or since you waded into the ocean to bring me back, you've been at my side and with my best interest. There's nothing I feel I can do to repay you, not even in the slightest amount, to match what you've done for me." Draco took a breath, as if stealing himself for what came next, and stepped around his chair to bow to Hermione.

"Wha- Prince Draco, please, please stand up." Hermione whispered harshly, waving her hands and glancing to the closed door. "What if someone sees?"

"Then they should know how much help you've been, how wonderful." Draco retorted, straightening up after a few moments more. "You are the smartest woman of our age, with a nature unparalleled of any of men or women I've met in my _life._ I've been harsh, demeaning, and arrogant towards you, and you deserved none of that, but I cannot be anything less than yours, and my family's and country's expectations."

Hermione felt a chill spread throughout her body, a little dampening effect which spread from her chest in a flurry as his words. To hear that from Draco, well it wasn't something she'd have even thought possible. "That was- Prince Draco, you know-"

Draco lifted his hand, just slightly, but lowered it, shoving it into his pocket, as he donned a somber expression. "When we're alone, could you call me 'Draco'?"

Hermione, opening her mouth to refuse such a request, but paused, thinking better of it. She wanted him to trust her, and from his recent declaration, would it be so bad to call him by name? "Of course, Draco." She tacked on his name, her heart pounding in her ears at the word rolling from her lips. "That I can do."

Draco's lips twitched, spreading into this half smile that roused a confusing thought in Hermione. He'd opened up again, so cautiously as if he expected a verbal wipe to come from her, a reminder of who he was or his station. He'd been truthful with her, immensely so, yet, could she be truthful with Draco? Could she let this boy be a part of her life, let him? The answer should have obviously been no, but something was stirring in her chest that she couldn't quiet place, an anxious thought both hot and fridged. This man, this boy who was reaching out was someone she desperately wished to protect.

Was she really only saving the prince from death? Something more perhaps?

As Draco bid farewell, his robes sweeping through the door as he hurried through them, she was left to ponder. Who was Draco to her, or her to him? What did he see her as? Hermione averted her eyes from the door, a small part of her wishing Draco would come through those doors, and she hated herself for it, for her scrambled thoughts about the whole affair.

How could she help Draco muddle through his life when she was so far gone in her own?

She laid her elbows on the table, nestling her forehead in her hands in complete mental exhaustion. So much, so little time to take it all in, but she had to look past it all, she just _had_ to in order to save everyone from the future Luna was terrified for.

Hermione breathed out, running her fingers through her hair as she looked at the portrait of Slytherin. He was a bald man, with scraggly black brows sporting a matching goatee. As if he was a snake molting his skin, his face was heavily lined and sagged around his forehead, eyes and cheeks. Hermione looked down at the picture, seeing past the exterior of the man, attaching the stories with him, and his beliefs.

She snapped the book closed with disgust, standing up and collecting the books. This was the only thing that she had the space in her head for, not Draco or her own feelings, none of that. She needed a place to review, a place to think out of the watchful eye of the court.

Then she knew exactly where she needed to go.

* * *

Ending Author's note: Oh my, oh my... Leave your thoughts on the chapter or favorite/follow/comment.

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	17. Chapter 17

When Hermione was four years old, she read her first book. She'd read it to herself, aloud, she'd even quote it to passing strangers. It had been a thick fairytale book, bound in leather with golden writing scrawled across the front cover. Her mother thought it adorable how she loved the stories, but that love didn't stick as she grew older. In fact, Hermione strayed so far away from magical stories, into scientific papers- anything concrete with facts- that she had a hard time conversing with others her age. None of them seemed to understand the depths of her favorite topics, and even less so when she tried to explain.

Eventually, Hermione stopped trying to explain.

It had been years since she'd held that fairytale book in her hands, or any magic story for that matter. Yet there she was with double the amount of books Draco had lugged to their study session crammed in her arms and stuffed into a satchel that she had had to persuade a cook to lend to her. She couldn't see her feet through her baby womb of books, so she had to do an awkward side waddle when taking the stairs down to the secret entrance to the abandoned tower.

Hermione was rather pink in the face from the excessive weight of the books, her breath heavy as she struggled to lift the satchel more securely onto her shoulder.

"Now now Severus," came the familiar, squeaky voice of Pettigrew from around the next corner Hermione was about to take. "You've been awfully strange these past couple weeks."

She froze in her tracks. What was happening, all these conversations she steps into.

"I haven't the foggiest idea what you mean." Snape chided.

"Well, you've been off in your little potions dungeon, brewing away something that smells strangely like-"

"Your _point_ Pettigrew? I haven't all day, as it seems you do, to waste on useless talk."

"We haven't _chatted_ in a while Severus as it's always so serious with you. No funny business at all."

"If you have anything to say I suggest you spit it out." Snape's voice was cold, borderline violent, as if he was going to curse Pettigrew into oblivion for merely existing.

"Well," The squeakiness grew worse as Pettigrew's voice heightened and quickened. "I'm worried about the disappearances in town. So many missing and the king hasn't shown an ounce of remorse, perhaps you could talk to him or brew something."

"Brew _what_ exactly?" Snape snarled, "I can't make a potion to keep something out if I don't know who is-"

"Not a who." Pettigrew cut it, his voice regaining composure as his voice dropped to more of a whisper, which Hermione had to strain to hear. "A what, I believe I know what is making people disappear."

There was a silence, stretching over seconds before Snape snapped.

"What led you to think it'd be those filthy scaled creatures?" Pettigrew yelped, a scampering of feet and a thud, "If you even suggest it to the king or the dutchess."

"No never," he lied, having mentioned the same upsetting topic to the king just the other day, "I suspect them, no proof really. But what else but the siren song could."

Pettigrew was silent, a muffled sort of noise escaping to Hermione's ears. She was rooted to the spot, not sure if she should save Pettigrew, or stay hidden.

"I will brew the potion," Snape agreed, snarling as a whimper escaped Pettigrew's lips, "But as a precaution. Not another word of those things to anyone, or I will have you charged and put before the court, royal advisor."

There was a whoosh of clothing and fading footsteps, so Hermione felt it safe to peer around the corner, a few bricks lower to the ground so as to keep out of sight.

Pettigrew was clamoring to his feet, his face tinged a deep fuschia. His lips sputtering choice curse words under his breath, followed by a swift kick to the stone legs of the three-eyed woman statue, which blocked the secret passageway.

Hermione held her breath at the sight of Pettigrew's continued curses and groans of pain from his misguided outburst of anger. The statue hasn't seemed to move.

She let out her breath, her shoulders sagging, which gave the satchel of books to swing from her shoulder and make a loud thump as it met the ground.

"Who's there?" Pettigrew called out, his voice raising an octave as he spoke. "Show yourself or face severe consequences."

Her brain raced, reviewing the routes around her which she could make a quick escape, but none seemed fruitful. Nothing more than a half second passed and Hermione did the one thing she thought she'd never do.

She dropped her armful of books across the floor.

"How- goodness gracious," Hermione grumbled aloud, kneeling down to organize the books again as Pettigrew peered around the corner. Hermione purposefully looked behind her, but straightened up, "Where'd they go?"

"Where'd who go, Lady Granger?" Pettigrew asked, stepping into the hallway.

"Ah," Hermione exclaimed, jumping slightly as she 'noticed' Pettigrew, "Hello Sir Pettigrew. I- _who_ absolutely right! I couldn't see their face, what with all the books in my hands, but after the satchel slouched in my arms and landed on the floor, a cloaked man rammed into me and made me drop the rest of my books." Hermione shook her head, lips puckering as she continued to organize her books. "No respect, none at all."

Hermione continued to collect her books, not glancing up at Pettigrew, who hadn't moved an inch since rounding the corner. She finished stacking her books, and proceeded to haul the satchel back over her shoulder and heave the stack of books into her arms as she stood.

"Lady Granger," Pettigrew began, "Did you happen to see their face?"

"Not really," Hermione shrugged her free shoulder slightly, hoping that she was convincing. "I couldn't see very well."

"Or hear anything, as you walked?"

"No, ah wait-" Hermione corrected herself, another idea cropping into her mind. Pettigrew's eyes widened as he leaned in to listen. "I did hear some curses and a thump. Did you also fall because of the cloaked person?" Hermione questioned.

"Ah, yes. I did stub my toe." Pettigrew admitted, straightening up and flattening his shirt collar. "I'll be off, important business you know. Just, try not to damage or dirty the kingdom's library."

With that he walked past Hermione, pausing as he was just past her shoulder and add "You've been taking care of Draco then?"

"Yes, of course." Hermione replied, her eyes gazing at the three-eyed woman.

"Good, good." Pettigrew wheezed, continuing his trek down the hall.

Hermione stepped around the corner, down the hall of the passageway, but didn't move a step further until she was sure that Pettigrew was gone.

"What in the world," Hermione murmured to herself, her eyes falling onto the statue, which hadn't budged from Pettigrew's attack. Hermione leaned back against the nearby wall, the satchel slipping back down her shoulder.

Her arms hurt from carrying the books, all she wanted was some sleep, but there was no time for that. She had to somehow track down all information she could about the locket and Slytherin she could so as to find out who the current owner was. She'd found journals of Slytherin's decendants, history of the family and more on sirens. There had to be something in the ink. She'd just have to read it all.

Stealing herself for what was to come, Hermione opened the secret passageway, taking great care to not be seen and make little noise as she ascended the steps.

* * *

The scent of dusted, sun-kissed pages and ink filled her nose.

She struggled, her hand weak upon the pages as she attempted to keep her eyes open.

She'd been starting at the same word 'mudblood' in one of the journals, but her mind was groggied and couldn't recognize it in the afternoon light in the abandoned tower. Her head slipped from its resting place on her palm and fell into the crook of her arm. Too tired to lift her head again, Hermione let her eyes close as well.

Just a moment, no more.

But the sunlight had made the floor warm and Hermione didn't open her eyes again until she felt someone lift her, cradling her under her legs and at her shoulders.

Her head met something soft and she relaxed into it. Her arms wrapped into a cushion, holding it to her as she breathed in a scent that eased her body into the softness around her.

She imagined that she was sleeping beauty, her favorite princess tale. She had loved the thought of being rescued by someone, falling in love at a glance and yearning for the other. She'd drifted apart from the story with time, realizing how preposterous it was, yet in this moment she recalled the story perfectly. The cozied warmth she was wrapped in hummed around her, as if she was sleeping right then. She imagined a man, shrouded in blinding light standing over her sleeping form, declaring love for her, preparing himself to kiss her.

Hermione sighed, feeling her eyes flutter open, gazing upon the figure in her dream shrouded in light staring down at her.

Hermione smiled, tilting her head to the side and bringing him closer to press her lips to his, but there was something in the way. She leaned back, but the block followed her, pressing into her lips.

She looked up at her prince, the question 'why won't you kiss me' written across her face, but as she gazed at her prince she noted the unmistakable features of Draco Malfoy.

For a dream, she'd have expected him to be smiling, yet his mouth hung open with color rushing to his face.

Then it dawned on her.

"Bloody _hell_ ," Hermione whispered, leaned away from Draco and his fingers that had silenced her lips. "What's going on? What happened?"

Draco, his hand still hanging between them twitched out to Hermione before he retreated backwards, kneeling down besides the bed.

"What-" Hermione's eyes took in the shadows on his face, the light she'd seen around him came from lit candles. The sunlight had faded entirely. "What time is it?"

"Well past sundown," Draco replied curtly, shifting his hands to lie stifly in his lap.

"Oh dear, I hadn't meant to fall asleep like that." Hermione mumbled groggily, her finger rubbing the sleepiness from her eyes.

Draco stayed sitting bolt upright, as if some royal was a moment away from bursting into the tower. Hermione surveyed him, her hands lowering.

"Are you alright Draco?" Hermione questioned.

"Yeah, I'm swell I was just-" Draco's eyes wandered, spotting the pile of books scattered about into piles'. "Just wondering why you brought so many books up."

"Oh right." Hermione yawned, running her tongue along the insides of her cheeks to get rid of the taste sleep had left in her mouth. "I read some, the three piles left to right, are 'read and relevant', 'read and not relevant' and 'haven't read'" She pointed to each in turn.

Draco nodded vigorously, his body relaxing slightly. "Anything interesting?"

"No," Hermione groaned, running a hand through her hair, knotting her fingers into it. "I haven't read a single thing about sirens I didn't already know about. For the locket, all I've found so far is that it was lost when he passed."

"Did it say anything more? Not even about its disappearance?"

"No, not really." Hermione shook her head, gesturing to the only book in the 'relevant' pile. "Take a look yourself. I marked the section."

Hermione sat up, wrapping an arm around her legs as she rested her mouth on her arm. Draco moved to collect the book as her lips brushed the fabric of her dress, a new thought dawning on her at the fabric's touch- why Draco had been so close and touching her mouth. "Did we, did I- I mean-"

Draco looked up from the section she had marked, his eyes widening, sitting up straighter. "We almost did." Draco finished for her, his lips pressing together as he glanced up from under his lashes, as if he regretted blocking it, or was it from speaking up? Hermione wasn't sure.

"I- well you were asleep on the floor when I came up," Draco continued, words spilling out faster than a waterfall, "so I lit the candles and carried you to bed. I didn't intend anything by it."

Hermione nodded, her shoulders squaring as she sat up in the mess of the covers. In truth, her mind was rather reeling inside. Why did Draco look, what? Disappointed? Or possibly embarrassment? Whatever he was he thinking, he wasn't hiding it, but she couldn't get a read on him.

Hermione pinched herself under the covers. It didn't matter as to what it was. None of it. Draco wasn't her prince to fall for. She was not to be interested in someone out of her class. Anyone.

Noticing that the silence stretched between the two of them, Hermione cleared her throat with every intention of reminding him who he was. A king. Yet, Draco leaned forward, the light casting shadows to accent his handsome features.

Words faltered for a moment as Hermione gazed into his wide eyes.

"Hermione?" Draco whispered, his arms leaning against the bed frame, pushing himself up to be at her eye level.

"Yes?" She responded, unknowingly mimicking his inclination.

"May I kiss you?" His question came, sending a tremor though Hermione.

Hermione's conviction melted at his words, so sweet and ernest. She remembered his fingers atop her lips, how soft they'd been. A pain shot though her heart. His hands were soft, ones that had been pampered from birth. He was going to be a king.

"Please?" Draco asked, bringing Hermione back from her thoughts.

"I-" Hermione swallowed, her throat dry as she shook her head, a sick pining rising in her. "You're going to be king. I'm not- I _can't-_ "

Draco placed his fingertips on either side of her face, his expression open and seeing only her. His eyes roved her face, how her lips twitched as if they weren't sure, her eyes meeting his as their breath mingled in the space between them.

"I'm just Draco." He spoke, his hands spreading, running through her hair to cradle her head as he leaned into her, pausing a moment, searching her face before pressing his lips to hers.

His hands were gently, yet persistent in their desire to yield her lips to his, and Hermione wanted to say no. No, she _knew_ she needed to say no- push him away, yet no part of her seemed to be listening, not even her own mind.

Instead, she opened up to him, unfolding her skirt so as to shift closer to him. Her hands trailed across the blankets, over the bed frame and around Draco's sides, resting on his spine. Her fingertips pressed in, inching up his back so as to draw him closer to her.

It was, so comforting, even natural to kiss him. Her heart swelled in her chest, finally free from the rational cage her mind had put it into. It reached out to Draco, to hold onto him, this tangible connection that sprung forth.

Hermione held onto the boy, the man, in her arms. She gasped, her chest shuddering for air as he drew away, touching his forehead to hers.

She felt something for Draco, it was undeniable how she yearned to be closer to him. To kiss him again, hold his face in her hands and study his face for hours. Her heart had yielded to him in this very tower, had been reaching to know more since that day. How had she even denied any of the feelings?

Draco leaned away, smiling brighter than the sun as he brushed his thumb across her cheek in long strokes. His eyes studied her, watching her, and Hermione realized he was waiting for her to speak.

This beautiful boy, who had taken her mind and melted it, held her so lovingly as if she was a precious gem to behold.

A gem.

A crown.

Doubt welled up in Hermione's mouth. The earlier conversation between Lucius and Pettigrew ringing in her ears. Draco's wife.

"Hermione?" Draco brushed the hair from her face, drawing her eyes to his. "What's wrong?"

"I can't." Hermione whispered, yet she couldn't force herself to move out of Draco's arms.

Draco shifted onto the bed besides Hermione, a hand cupping her face so that she could only look into his face. His eyes flickered over her features, searching for something.

"You know," Draco cracked a smile, brushing his thumb across her bottom lip, "I can't tell what you're thinking, but anything you're worried isn't as big as you might think."

Hermione shook her head, the thought of Draco having a wife picked for him pounded painfully between her ears. "Your wife," she breathed, her hands shaking against Draco's sides, "Your wife is already chosen for you, by the king."

"When? How?"

"I overheard it the other day when he was talking with Pettigrew." Hermione answered.

"Hermione," Draco urged, his calmness cutting though Hermione's hysteria, "that doesn't matter. I'll refuse them."

She could see it in his eyes, how he held himself that he meant it. She wanted to believe him, yet she couldn't let herself. How could he refuse them? A boy who'd never been like this outside his lonely tower.

"Refuse them?" Hermione's voice broke, she could feel the venom from her thoughts rush forth. "You'll go against the king and queen? Your _father_? I saw him physically hurt Pettigrew after their talk, what would you do Draco? Do you have any plan for that? Tomorrow? Any plan for the future?"

Draco's hands faltered, falling away from her face. Her chest seized up as she tried to shove her heart back into its cage. Now she'd done it.

Hermione stood up, taking shaky steps away from Draco, his palms out towards her, and she practically flew out of the tower. If Draco had stopped her, even called out her name, she was sure that she would have broken down.

Yet he didn't.

* * *

Ending Author's note: Can I insert a crying gif here? No? Well, what do you think about Hermione's actions? Or Draco's feelings? Leave your thoughts on the chapter or favorite/follow/comment- I love seeing them.

Follow me on tumblr at: blog/smilyhufflepuff-blog or search smilyhufflepuff: and you can find some Leagues Away inspiration, cut scenes, or updates on the story :)


	18. Chapter 18

The sun rose from the horizon, its rays kissing the stone castle and casting shadows over the gatekeepers hut. It was quaint, and well kept, not like many other nooks and spaces of servants. The hut was well left after by its inhabitants, Harry, Hagrid, and their dog Fang.

While on the outside the hut sat peacefully in shade, it held two very confused men and a woman who refused to come out from under the bed covers. Neither man had really dealt with women, especially those who refused to say why they were so upset to come in the middle of the night and weep until they gave her a place to sleep.

Hermione was given the bed, to her futile protest, as the men took to the floor. The men had hoped a good night's sleep would do her good, but they had just as much luck the next morning. In the end, Hagrid began cooking a breakfast of vegetable soup and hard bread while Harry stoked the fire for some hot water.

Heat rose in the cabin, which made Hermione a little too warm to stay under the covers as she was. She pushed the covers away and sat up, still fully dressed from the day before.

Harry glanced up from his place at the table, a steaming bowl of soup in front of him. Hagrid was setting a third place up for Hermione, trying to place the bowl of soup down without spilling.

Harry grinned, appraising the ruffled and sweaty Hermione.

"Oh sod off." Hermione muttered, wiping the sweat from her face and airing out her dress the best as she could before taking a seat at the table.

Harry chortled, dipping his bread into the soup and letting it soak, "Can't stand the heat, get out of the hut."

Hagrid joined in Harry's amusement, settling down himself to breakfast. "Please eat, Lady Granger. I would hate to think you left without being properly fed."

"Why thank you Hagrid, and Hermione is perfectly fine." She took up her roll of bread, feeling its weight and bringing it to her mouth to bite.

Harry coughed, quiet loudly, and motioned to her to dunk it in the soup first. Hermione inspected the bread, pinching it only lead to the assumption that either Hagrid was a master painter and made rocks look like rolls, of the bread was simply that dense. She mimicked Harry's dunking motion.

Hagrid hadn't noticed any of this exchange as Fang picked that exact moment to start scratching at the door to be let outside.

"So," Hagrid began, settling himself back at the table, and breaking his bread in half with a snap. "Hermione, you came here awfully late last night. I don't mean to pry, but if you want to talk, I've been working for the family for years and I know how the place works. If you do not wish to, or you'd rather talk with Harry, I'd understand."

"Thank you Hagrid, really." Hermione responded, swirling the bread through the nearly clear soup. "I think I might need a bit longer though."

Last night had been a disaster, all of it. Most of it. Hell, she shouldn't ran out on the prince of the kingdom, whom she'd promised to protect and save from Merlin knows what, all because she fancied him.

And Draco fancied her, a small voice reminded her. He'd been so close last night, and now the thought of seeing him again… What if he ignored her? Or, or what if he tiptoed around her? What if he tried harder, or gave up completely and shut her out? Please anything but that.

"Hermione?" Harry asked, touching the back of her hand.

"Wha- oh, what is it Harry?"

"Well, you might get soggy bread at this rate." He pointed at the roll still half submerged in her soup. "After I'm done, I'm going to work in the garden for a bit if you'd like to join me."

"Oh," Hermione lifted her bread from the soup. "Alright then. I can keep you company." She slowly bit into her roll. It felt like she was gnawing on a dense, bland wheat pie. Then again, as she ate a bit of soup, the combination wasn't half bad.

Harry gave Hagrid a look over his soup, and Hagrid nodded, stepping away from the table with his empty bowl in hand.

"Well, I best be off. I have a few duties in town, a little supply run, but I'll be back in a jif. Alright you two?"

"I'll hold down the fort." Harry replied, lifting his half eaten roll to Hagrid.

Hagrid chuckled, shaking his head at Harry. "That's my boy."

Within a few moments, Hagrid had snatched up his moleskin overcoat and stumped out the door, the breeze of air sending young Draco's pictures waving in the breeze.

The papers caught Hermione's eyes, a few of them were scribbles, masses of color. Others were pictures of extremely detailed, fierce dragons and knights. There was one she could see of Draco's own face, it was rather boxy, much unlike his angled features, but the square nature to his jaw might have been from the wide smile he'd drawn.

Hermione turned back to her breakfast, dipping the other half of her bread into the soup. She shouldn't be looking at his work, or thinking fondly about him. She couldn't, not with imminent death hovering over the entire kingdom.

No princes, Hermione promised herself.

"So," Harry began, scraping the vegetables up with is bread. "what happened? You were fine last I saw you. Did something change with Draco, or the locket?"

"Well, as for the locket, the prince found a picture of Salazar Slytherin wearing it. The locket was his, but it's been lost for ages. No one knows where it might be."

Hermione answered the easier question, hoping that Harry might drop it. She couldn't even bear to say his name aloud.

"That's certainly a problem." Harry noted, shaking his head. "Well, did you two think of someone to ask? Maybe another book?"

Hermione recalled the stack of books she'd left unread last night. Now they were all in the tower and she couldn't return without risking a run in with Draco. Not alone.

"Hermione?" Harry put a hand on her shoulder, squeezing it slightly to get her attention.

"Yes, yes right." Hermione straightened up, shaking the thoughts of the tower from her mind. "The locket. The prince said that Dutchess Bellatrix might have an idea about the locket, or Sirens at the very least. After the conversation with the king and Pettigrew the other day it'd be foolish to ignore. I'll have to look through her chambers for a book or written document she might've picked up."

"So a break in?" Harry clarified, shifting forward in his seat. "I'll help."

"What? Oh no, no I couldn't put you at risk."

"Better me than you." Harry protested. "I don't hold a title like you do, and if worse comes to worse I can escape to the water. I'll be in and out before you know it, and we'd meet back here, at Hagrid's."

Hermione bit her lower lip, contemplating his plan. "Okay, okay fine. But we'll do it together. The duchess is rather mad, and I don't want someone going in solo."

Harry nodded, a smile spreading across his face as his voice took a turn for the dramatic. "Another adventure of Harry the brave and Hermione the wise, off to steal a magical book from the mad witch."

A laugh rose from her belly, already filled with warm food, and bits of food flew from her mouth. "Oh, sorry, sorry. I hadn't heard those names in a while."

"I honestly forgot about it until now." Harry leaned back in his chair, stuffing the last of the bread into his mouth.

Hermione swirled her soup, picking out the last bits of vegetables. Memories of their little adventures filled her thoughts, how happy they'd been running around, seeing dragons out of trees and nymphs disguised as flowers.

"I miss it," Harry sighed, standing up and taking both of their bowls to wash them. "A lot actually, but life goes on and we make the best of it. With friends, anything is possible."

Harry's back was turned, yet Hermione felt the full scope of his words. How much she'd gone through, what he had, how many years it had been since she felt a laugh erupt from pure happiness. To confide your secrets of where they'd hid pastries or how Harry had a small crush on Ron's sister.

A bubble of nostalgia rose in Hermione, bursting as she blurted out, "Draco kissed me last night."

Harry nearly toppled over, having pivoted on a wet spot on the floor.

"What?" Harry gasped, catching himself on the back of a chair to steady himself. "He kissed you? The prince?"

"Is that really so surprising?" Hermione questioned, twisting a strand of hair that had fallen from its coil.

"Well, not in the way that I don't think you're gorgeous and intelligent and all, but he's a prince." Harry rationalized. "We heard that his parents already chose his bride, so the ball is only for show. Can you blame me for being surprised."

"No, not really." Hermione relented.

"And?" Harry pressed, sitting back down at the table and facing Hermione, hands clasped in front of him.

"And what?"

"Do you like him?"

That exactly thought had kept her up all night long. Did she like Draco? Did she find him attractive when she found him in that tower? Did she find him vulnerable and open to help? Did she find him inexplicably witty? Yes, yes she did. But was that love? Was that love enough to overlook the fact that Draco was the crown prince and was set to meet his future bride at any moment?

That was the exact thought that drove her to Hagrid's, because everytime she thought she'd come to a conclusion, the other side would put up a fight.

Draco had gone through life so differently, but he'd been resilient in some capacity. He'd tried, and been beaten down and she wanted him to stand up for it, to say no and chose for himself. Was it only protection she felt, or was it love?

"I- I couldn't tell you, because nothing makes sense to me. There's what's rational, saying no because he's the crown prince, or saying yes which means I'm the most delusional girl to think I could be with him. It's as if I'm caught between a rock and a riptide. My head and her heart, and for once my heart isn't giving in to reason. I don't know what to think!"

Hermione ran her fingers through her hair, her breathing heavy as she took in what had just tumbled out. How could she let herself believe that they could happen. Her stomach pinched up, and she could feel the vegetables and bread flip her stomach around.

Harry moved closer, wrapping his arms around Hermione and burying his face in her hair. It was comforting, feeling the weight of someone else, someone who cared.

"Thanks Harry," Hermione whispered, her voice breaking. "I just- what am I suppose to do?"

Harry kept his arm around her back and moved away so he could see her face. "Well, and I'm sorry if this makes you upset, but what happened after he kissed you?"

Last night's events flooded into her mind with a vengeance, having been suppressed to the best of her ability. The kiss, her giving in and coming to terms with her feelings, the realization that they could never happen, and the escape.

She described all of it to Harry, as best she could while keeping her composure. All was lost when she had to explain why they could never happen.

"I- Why isn't there some book on love?" Hermione demanded, her hands clasping her head, pressing onto it as if she might remember something she'd read. "It's the most- the most confusing and irrational thing on the planet. Nothing at all to make sense of this."

"Love isn't rational though," Harry said, giving Hermione's shoulders a light squeeze. "It never is, but it is natural. Did you feel that with Draco?"

"I can't say I didn't. I found myself wanting it, the kiss. Mose than that, I wanted him, to know him and be near him. After I ran out, I can't stop thinking about what he'll say or do when I meet him next. What if he hates me? What if I couldn't stop the future from happening and he dies as a result of all this and-"

"Woah there," Harry cut in, his hand flying up to cover Hermione's own. "Hold on. Do you think you can blame yourself if this all goes sour? You're not the only one trying to stop this."

"But Luna said-"

"I know what Luna said, and she saw you. She saw you trying, and being successful in several versions of her visions. Nothing is set in stone, and believe me when I say you were never alone, so stop acting like it. Both Luna and I are with you, even Draco. We all are trying to stop the sirens, together."

"And if Draco dies?"

"I'll do everything in my power to not let that happen." Harry promise, his hand moving to cover his heart. "Now, the best way to do that is to take action, right?"

"Right." Hermione agreed, her shoulders relaxing into herself. "What did you have in mind?"

"We'll search the duchess's room."

"Okay." Hermione nodded along, straightening up. "We should focus on that."

"Yes, but," Harry placed a hand on her shoulder, his eyes wide and ernest. "Don't close yourself off from those feelings okay? Promise me that something like being the crown prince won't sway you."

Hermione bit the insides on her cheeks. Her heart squeezed inside her chest as if she was underwater again. There was no way she could promise something like that.

Before Harry could speak again, there was a noise at the door, a scratching sound.

"Fang must want to come back in," Hermione muttered, ducking from Harry's hand to open the door. "Come on in boy."

Fang barked, looking up at Hermione and padding away back towards the gates, barking again. It was the same deal as when he'd led her to the secret entrance.

Hermione hurried down the steps, watching Fang carefully as he bounded away, glancing back at her with his tongue lolling out. Harry called out to her, but she hardly heard him over the cool breeze blowing over her skin. Fang had passed the gate, out of her line of sight, and Hermione called out to him.

"Oh dear," Hermione collected her skirt and followed Fang through the gate, stopping immediately when she saw who Fang had brought her out to see.

Draco was scratching Fang behind the ears, glancing back up the castle's path to make sure no one was behind him.

Hermione backed away, she was still wearing her outfit from yesterday. She was sweaty and her stomach hadn't exactly settled down. In fact, seeing Draco made her wish to crawl back under the covers.

Draco was groomed, his hair slicked back and a clean face. He was dressed extremely well, wearing a gorgeous, green overcoat and light trousers. The trousers were smudged at the knees with dirt, but he hadn't seemed to notice. Yet the more she looked, the more she noticed the slight puff to his face and the shadows underneath his eyes.

He looked up at Hermione, and for that unbearable moment she saw dozens of reactions from him. Outbursts, tears, curses, stuttering, professions, anything and everything except for what Draco did.

Nothing.

He stood there, his finger left forgotten on Fang's head. He looked at Hermione, simply looked.

She wasn't sure if he was appraising her, or thinking about last night. What did he think of her now? Standing here, unpresentable in any form of court with her disheveled hair and weary look. He couldn't be thinking of his own feelings, he must've come to terms after she'd left last night. Afterall, it was for the best. She couldn't look at him anymore.

She cast her eyes away, landing on Fang. She motioned for him, and he glanced up at Draco, but went to Hermione. He stood next to her, looking back at Draco, but Hermione didn't dare look at him, not without something inside of her breaking.

"Let's go Fang," Hermione's voice sounded as disheveled as she felt, and Fang nuzzled his head into her skirts.

"Hermione," Draco called out, his voice wavering, traveling over the space between them. "Hermione please wait. I just want to talk."

Hermione lifted her face to the sky, hoping for rain, lightening, some act of magic to stop what was surely to come. Nothing came, and she sighed, defeated.

Hermione took a shaky breath, her eyes stinging and she knew that if she looked at him the tears she felt forming would fall. She'd been completely undone by a boy, by a boy she couldn't admit to loving. It was infuriating just how much of an influence the smallest things he'd do could make on her.

"What?" Hermione choked on her own words, egging Draco on, hoping he'd end this fight in her own mind. "What did you want to say, exactly?"

"I- "

"Hermione move!" Harry called out, running towards her.

Hermione heard them before she saw them. Galloping hooves, fast and growing louder. She whipped her head around to see two jet black horses galloping at full speed towards her. She shrieked, horses whined and stomped their hooves, an arm grabbed her around her stomach and yanking her back from the road.

* * *

Ending Author's note: Dang Pansy... Leave your thoughts on the chapter or favorite/follow/comment- I love seeing them.

Follow me on tumblr at: blog/smilyhufflepuff-blog or search smilyhufflepuff: and you can find some Leagues Away inspiration, cut scenes, or updates on the story :)


	19. Chapter 19

Hermione and Harry fell onto the ground besides the gate's eastern pillar. Hermione gasped, grasping her knee, which had smacked hard onto the rocky earth. Harry sucked in air through clenched teeth, his arms still wrapped tightly around Hermione.

"Are you youngsters alright?" came a startled voice, one much lighter and higher than the prince's or Harry's.

Hermione looked up, noting the horses rearing up on their hind legs as the coachmen reined the horses back. He was a older man, white hair peppering his beard. He was fighting the horses, but looking down at Hermione, repeating his previous question in that high voice.

"Ah yes," Hermione responded, her knee giving a twinge as she struggled to her feet. "I'm alright."

Harry echoed her statement, Fang sat beside him, nudging him with his nose.

"What do you think you're doing?," roared the familiar voice of Draco, drawing the coachmen's attention from Hermione as she brushed off the bits of rubble and dust from her dress. "Pushing your horses to high speed at the front entrance, you could have run someone of importance over, and you nearly did. My father would be furious if he caught wind."

"My apologies, Your Royal Highness," speaked the coachman, still straining with the horses, whose hooves made impressions in the hard earth. "The horses were spooked."

Draco glanced over at Hermione, his face pinched as if he wanted to berate the man further.

Hermione caught his eye and flinched, she could see the ghost of the old Draco.

Draco's eyes widened, falling to the earth as the carriage doors banged open.

"Draco, is that you?" A haughty voice rain through the still air.

The owner of the voice, a fair skinned girl with rich brown hair, stepped out of the carriage and wrapped her arms through one of Draco's. There was a wide roundness to her nose that lifted towards the tip, and a squareness to her jaw that reminded Hermione of a pug.

She went as far in her greeting to hop onto her toes and kiss Draco's cheek. The girl tugged on Draco's arm, saying something to him in a low voice, fluttering her lashes.

Probably the worst part of seeing this was the fact that Draco hadn't reacted negatively or even a bit upset that she had put her lips on him. Hermione had to look away from the two at this point, not wanting to see more of Draco's lazafare attitude about her affection.

Fang was definitely better looking than that pug.

"I understand that the horses were out of control." Draco's cool voice reasoned. "However-"

"So what?" The girl raised her voice over Draco's, her hands digging into his arm. "It wasn't my fault. Why are you blaming me? No one was hurt."

"I'm not blaming _you_."

"So then the coachmen? If you don't like him, he can go away- did you hear me Bughorn? You're dismissed."

The girl rounded on the coachman, waving a finger at him, her pug-faced scrunched up in fury. The coachman, a plum man with rosey cheeks, coward back from her.

Another set of feet descended a carriage, heels so high that if the earth was soft she would surely sink into it. The woman looked akin to the younger girl, still gripping onto Draco's arm, yet her face was heavily lined with caked on powder that only accentuated her lines.

"Pansy, dear, leave the coachman alone," commanded the ghostly woman, wagging a finger half heartedly. "and his name is _Slughorn_ dear."

"Whatever," Pansy huffed, leaning back from Slughorn, yet not moving her beedy eyes from his huddled figure.

"Pansy! That is no way to conduct yourself in front of your future- your potential future husband." The woman curtsied low, bowing her head to Draco. "Greeting your highness. The Parkinson family has arrived, Lady Pansy Parkinson and Dutchess Parkinson. Please forgive our horse's actions. They had been spooked, as Mr. Slughorn said. The precise moment I noticed the speed was when we went by the coast, and they only down seemed to calm down after we crossed the gates."

 _Crossed the gates?_ Hermione thought to herself, glancing to the gates' archway, then to Harry, who had the same curiosity etched into his face. Had Snape already put up that barrier Pettigrew asked for? Was the siren's reach at their doorstep? There was no time to lose.

"Dra-" Hermione stopped herself from calling him by name, it would be appalling in their current company.

Draco glanced up, the veins in his neck popping from beneath his skin, as did Pansy. Her nose wrinkled up as she looked Hermione and Harry over.

"Who's the dog?" She asked Draco from behind her hand, but obviously not trying to speak quietly.

"It's the gatekeepers dog, Wolf, or Dragon, or something." Draco drawled, waving his hand to brush the question aside. He did a small double take, staring straight at Harry.

"No not him," Pansy laughed tapping Draco's chest endearingly. "I'm talking about the dirty tramps next to him."

Hermione straightened up the best she could, plastering her usual smile as she bent into a curtsey, as if she'd never heard her words. "My apologies for not introducing myself earlier. I had been in shock from the horses; they are simply gorgeous. My name is Lady Granger, the royal tutor."

She gave Harry a glare as discreetly as she could.

Harry hadn't needed the hint, as he was already in a deep bow. "Pleased to make your acquaintance. My name is… Dudley Dursley. I'm the gatekeeper's assistant."

Pansy straightened up, a smug smile spreading across her face. "Ah, yes the horses are specially bred in from Little Hangleton." Looking past Harry and Fang as if they didn't exist. "They're some of the most sophisticated and proper steeds."

Hermione held herself back from correcting the girl that the horses were not purebred. She could tell this from telltale signs of the horse's bodies and hair designs, but this was not the time nor place to correct a girl who seemed as stuck up as her nose.

"If you would be so kind," Dutchess Parkinson spoke up, her voice simpering. "Would you be so kind as to join the carriage and escort us to the castle, Your Highness. We would be honored to be in our presence before the welcome dinner."

Draco inclined his head to the woman, his voice clipped as he agreed to her request.

"Oh wonderful," cooed the Dutchess, beconning to her daughter back into the carriage.

Draco was dragged along by Pansy, his shoulders were held stiff as he clambered into the carriage after the dutchess.

Hermione watched him, wondering if he would glance back and give her some sort of verbal acknowledgement. A growing hollowness ate away inside her. Her breath caught in her throat. Draco didn't even look at her.

Before Pansy closed the carriage door, she smiled widely at Hermione, not a friendly one. It was as if she was laughing at Hermione, looking down at her from her finely crafted carriage and powdered nose.

The carriage took off and Hermione couldn't help but hate the girl. She'd been born into a good family, but she held no manners of one. Yet there she was, the one with the prince. She had more of a claim to Draco than Hermione could ever dream of.

Hermione turned back to Hagrid's hut as the carriage went out of sight, Fang at her heels.

"Hermione, are you sure now's the best time?" Harry asked, pulling at the tight server's collar he had fastened around his neck. "Won't the kitchen miss me?"

"If you're afraid, I can go alone." Hermione replied, her mouth set in a firm line as she flitted around the room to find a suitable dress to wear to a dinner/snooping-the-duchess's-room occasion.

There were dozens of dresses Twilfitt and Tattings had resized or completely created for her for tonight. Textures and colors galore, with beautiful silhouettes and garnishes and Hermione could not find a suitable dress to wear.

Hermione opened her wardrobe for what seemed like the tenth time when Harry took hold of her wrist.

"Hermione, hold on. You've been… well you're not yourself." Harry's face came into view, lowered, trying to catch Hermione's eyes as he did so. "What's wrong?"

"I- nothing. I just… I have nothing to wear." She finished lamely. In truth, she wanted to outshine that ill-mannered girl. Even more than that, she wanted Draco to look her way and see what he could never have.

But she couldn't vocalize it to Harry, worried that Harry would laugh.

Instead, as if he saw through her, Harry wrapped his arms around Hermione. Her head nestled into his shoulder as his chin rested on her head.

"Harry-"

"You like the prince." Harry stated, no questioning tick at the end of his voice.

Hermione hid her face, closing her eyes and herself from it all as the hollowness flared inside her chest. "I- I can't."

"But you do anyways."

"But I _shouldn't_ , like him Harry. That Pansy is a far better match and-"

"Station-wise," Harry cut in, his hand patting her back, "only that. If that pug-faced girl was anything else you wouldn't be saying that."

Hermione chewed at the inside of her cheeks, "It's his choice, and he went with her. He could have refused."

"And?" Harry questioned, his chin rubbing into her hair as he shook his head. "Aren't you the brightest girl of the age? If anything, he couldn't refuse that invitation, and if he tried he would most likely have been guilted into it."

Hermione bit the insides of her cheeks. She could see what Harry was saying, how it made logical sense, yet the hollowness didn't waver.

"What do I _do_ Harry?"

"You be your amazing self," Harry replied, "you wear a stunning dress and you show Draco how beautiful you are inside and out."

"Thanks Harry." Hermione whispered, hugging him tightly for a moment before releasing him.

Harry pulled back, smiling down at her. "If anything, he still needs you to save him. You know how attached damsels in distress can be when a knight comes to save them."

"Are you calling me a knight?" Hermione chortled, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Well you were always the smartest knight when we played them. You always had a plan, and it usually worked if Ron didn't goof up."

"Don't put everything on Ron now." Hermione poked Harry's chest, a stern mask covering her smile. "You went awol with him more times then I could count."

Harry shrugged a shoulder, smiling. "See? You're the best knight there is. And you know what knights need?"

Hermione waited for him to continue, but he was obviously waiting for her to ask. "Alright then, what?"

"Armor," he said, stepping away from her and pulling a dress that had been shoved into a corner of her closet. "Can't go into battle without it."

The dress itself was a pale pink dress, a lace pattern along the bodice that would cover, yet reveal the skin underneath. Hermione couldn't help but image herself in that dress, walking into the welcome dinner, and have all the nobility turn their heads.

"So?" Harry asked, shifting his hold so that the length of the dress kissed the floor. "Is that a yes?"

Hermione could only nod in reply.

"Alright then." Harry said with a grin, hanging the dress up and turning back to rummage in the closet. "Then the piece of resistance… here."

Harry faced her again, and Hermione gasped. In his hands were a string of white and pale pink pearls, practically woven together, creating a band of sorts. It shone in the firelight.

"Did you- you _made_ that?" Hermione gasped, moving closer to run her fingertips along the pearls. "It's beautiful."

"I had a bit of help," Harry admitted, lifting the pearls to nestel it into her hair. "I figured if I couldn't help see the future, or help you research on land, I had enough down time to make something for the two of you."

"Oh Harry," Hermione sighed, stepping closer to wrap Harry up into a hug. "Thank you so much for everything you've done. It's a lot more than you realize."

"I don't know about that, but," Harry gave her a light squeeze before releasing her and holding her out at arms length. "I'll always be here for you. We'll find the locket, the people after Draco, what the sirens want- we'll figure it all out."

Hermione smiled, her body feeling a bit lighter. "Well how about you be there for me by getting to the kitchen? The girls will be here soon to help me get ready, and I don't want to explain why you're here."

"But of course," Harry said with a flourish of his hand, bowing low to her as he backed into the door. "I shall-"

Harry stopped short, his head snapping around to stare at the door.

Hermione's chest tightened, her breath trapped in her chest as she peered at the door as well.

Terrified to speak, she let out a soft whisper. "What is it?"

"Uh, well." Harry's tongue darted across his lips as his voice trailed off.

"Harry please, what's going on?" Hermione took a tentative step forward, her hand reaching out to the nightstand for a hardcover book.

"It was." Harry put his hand on the decorative panels of the door, and pushed it open. "Nothing." He waved his hands and made a 'whooshing' sound.

She was going to murder him.

"Harry James Potter!" Hermione yelled at him, in a harsh whisper, her hands gripping the book tight as she advanced on Harry. "I- You- That was low."

Harry smiled widely, and stepped out of the room. "Don't be late to dinner." Harry called back in, popping his head in to give Hermione a target for her book.

Sadly, the book never made contact with him, only the space his head had occupied only moments before. The door made a resounding thud as it fell shut.

Hermione clicked her tongue, her feet striking the floor as she stalked forward to retrieve her book, which had luckily landed open, rather than on its pages.

She picked up the book, running her fingers along the edges. It was an older book, dictating the history of Salazar.

Hermione's eyes glazed over the pages once more, flipping through the pages until she saw something strange. In the center of the page, dark, loose strings that had bound the book together, standing straight up about half an inch.

Hermione pinched a string between her fingers and felt the other pages begin to lift as well.

"What in the world…" Hermione inspected the book, the pages, how they were connected. "Did someone tear a page out? Rude."

Hermione snapped the book shut, taking it back and putting it back on her stack of books.

"Honestly, what sort of person rips out a page?" Hermione grumbled to herself, picking up the dress Harry had found and slipping it on over herself. "Bookbinders take hours stringing the pages together, and for what? So that the pages fall out and we're left with sheets of mixed up pages." Hermione tightened the dress to the best of the ability, tying it so that it fit into her curves but didn't restrict her breathing.

"Stupid vandalizer. Tearing pages out of a book. Who does that to a book? And a _history_ book at that? I-"

Hermione turned back to look at the book. It was 'Founding of the Great Kingdom of Salazar' Volume III by Merlin. She'd yet to read that one in particular for relevant information, but seeing the ripped pages had sparked something in Hermione's brain.

Hermione opened the book again, reading through the pages, searching for what was missing. The pages seemed to glaze right over Salazar's death and the aftermath.

"Why would you rip those pages out?" Hermione wondered aloud as she snapped the book shut. "Did I miss something?"

Hermione perched on the end of her bed and began rifling through the other texts, searching for missing pages or text centered around Salazar's death or the locket. Book after book, page after page, Hermione found twelve books, of history and personal journals, that had multiple pages missing, and all centered around Salazar and his locket. The pages had been carefully taken out, and Hermione only found them from keen observation of the bindings and sentence structure.

"What in the world is going on?" Hermione sighed, laying back onto her bed. "Why take out these pages? They must have been trying to find the locket. Why else rip them out? And so carefully too." Hermione gazed up at the ceiling, her heart pounding in her chest. "How am I suppose to find this person."

Hermione sighed and sat up, the crown of pearls slipping backwards from the momentum.

"Oh shoot," Hermione muttered as she fixed the pearls back in place. "In any case, it might not be easy to find."

"Find what, Lady Hermione?" Came the crisp voice of Penelope, one of Hermione's maids who had dressed her for special evenings, from the entrance to her room. "Can I be of assistance?"

"Oh, hello there Penelope." Hermione exclaimed, standing up at the sight of her. "Well- I was just-"

"I apologize if I interrupted you," Penelope curtsied, her hand falling from the door handle. "I did knock."

"Had you?" Hermione asked, smoothing down her dress and hoping she still looked presentable. "I hardly noticed. Usually that door can make quiet a ruckus." Hermione's voice trailed off as she looked at the door. Harry had acted strange right before he left, staring at that door.

"Lady Hermione?"

"Ah, yes?" Hermione jerked her head back to Penelope. "Sorry."

"I'm here to get you ready for tonight." Penelope closed the door and stepped further into the room. "Every noble family member and their guests will be in attendance, so it was the Twilfitt and Tatting's request that every individual in attendance was in perfect shape."

"Really now?" Hermione raised a brow at Penelope.

Penelope grimaced. "Well, some people in specific they wanted to be checked on. They might be on their way right now in fact."

"Well I would prefer to be gone by that time." Hermione huffed, stacking the books back onto their side table. "They haven't liked me from the moment they saw me."

"They're honestly harmless, good seamsters." Penelope declared, stepping into the room and picking up the shoes Hermione planned to wear. "Truthfully," Penelope dropped her voice, "those two are pricks who suck up to the queen. They act like they're all that, but they have an apprentice who does all the actual sewing."

"So the apprentice does all the dirty work while they get recognized?" Hermione sat down in a chair so as to let Penelope lace up her shoes. It was the one task she could not accomplish with a dress on. "I have to say I'm not surprised."

"Perhaps she will inherit the title after they retire." Penelope said, kneeling in front of Hermione and slipping the shoes onto her feet. "She is their successor and rightful heir, so she'll get everything. She's such a prick about it too; she has a sharp, boastful tongue that one."

"Wait," Hermione choked out, sitting forward in her seat. "Say that again."

"She has a boastful tongue?"

"No, before that!"

"She's a prick?"

"No, no. About being an heir?"

"Oh that." Penelope sighed, continuing to tighten Hermione's shoes. "Honestly? She'll just get everything. Their shop, their spot in the castle, the fabric, the title, whatever perks you can think of really. She's been their apprentice for years, so she figures she's the one to take the title next." Penelope made a final tug on the shoes and stood up. "May I ask why you asked?"

"If I'm right, I'll let you know."

* * *

Ending Author's note: Leave your thoughts on the chapter or favorite/follow/comment- I love seeing them.

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